


Charlie Does CheerUp Fics

by CopperCrane2



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Cheerupemo, Cheerupemo Prompt Challenge, Developing Relationship, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Happy, Happy Ending, Humor, Implied Relationships, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Mentioned Sailor Moon Character(s), Platonic Relationships, Pre-Relationship, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24573457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperCrane2/pseuds/CopperCrane2
Summary: A collection of ficlets/drabbles. Mostly Inner Senshi and Shitennou. All happy. Absolutely no angst!Written for Caffeineivore's CheerUpEmo weekly event where we are given prompts to fill (prompts and characters featured are given as titles for each chapter).
Relationships: Aino Minako & Chiba Mamoru, Aino Minako & Hino Rei, Aino Minako & Jadeite, Aino Minako & Kino Makoto, Aino Minako & Kunzite, Aino Minako & Mizuno Ami, Aino Minako & Nephrite, Aino Minako & Tsukino Usagi, Aino Minako & Zoisite, Aino Minako/Kunzite, Chiba Mamoru & Hino Rei, Chiba Mamoru & Jadeite, Chiba Mamoru & Kino Makoto, Chiba Mamoru & Kunzite, Chiba Mamoru & Mizuno Ami, Chiba Mamoru & Nephrite, Chiba Mamoru & Sailor Senshi, Chiba Mamoru & Shitennou, Chiba Mamoru & Zoisite, Chiba Mamoru/Tsukino Usagi, Hino Rei & Jadeite, Hino Rei & Kino Makoto, Hino Rei & Kunzite, Hino Rei & Mizuno Ami, Hino Rei & Tsukino Usagi, Hino Rei/Jadeite, Hino Rei/Tsukino Usagi, Jadeite & Kino Makoto, Jadeite & Kunzite & Nephrite & Zoisite, Jadeite & Kunzite (Sailor Moon), Jadeite & Mizuno Ami, Jadeite & Nephrite (Sailor Moon), Jadeite & Tsukino Usagi, Jadeite & Zoisite (Sailor Moon), Kaiou Michiru/Tenoh Haruka, Kino Makoto & Kunzite, Kino Makoto & Mizuno Ami, Kino Makoto & Nephrite, Kino Makoto & Tsukino Usagi, Kino Makoto/Nephrite, Kunzite & Nephrite (Sailor Moon), Kunzite & Tsukino Usagi, Kunzite & Zoisite, Mizuno Ami & Kunzite, Mizuno Ami & Nephrite, Mizuno Ami & Tsukino Usagi, Mizuno Ami/Zoisite, Nephrite & Tsukino Usagi, Nephrite & Zoisite (Sailor Moon), Rei Hino & Nephrite, Senshi & Shitennou, Senshi/Shitennou, Tsukino Usagi & Inner Senshi, Tsukino Usagi & Sailor Senshi, Tsukino Usagi & Shitennou, Tsukino Usagi & Zoisite, Zoisite & Hino Rei, Zoisite & Kino Makoto
Comments: 36
Kudos: 53
Collections: SSMB Cheerupemo Fic and Art!





	1. Nephrite, Makoto (Tamales)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Makoto x Nephrite.
> 
> Crystal Tokyo. 
> 
> This was for Samus, but it was to cheer her up, so I'm putting it here... 

“Urgh,” Makoto walks into the kitchen while running her hands along her outer thighs, smoothing out the kinks of her skin tight navy dress, “what do you think?” She stands up to her full height, offering herself up for inspection.

Fernando gives her a brief once over before polishing off the bottle of soda in his hand. “I think that’s the fourth time you’ve come downstairs to ask that question.”

She tuts, throwing her arms out and landing them on her hips, akimbo. “Well, maybe if you gave me an answer when I asked…”

“I have been.” He burps. “S’cuse me.”

Makoto rolls her eyes. “Saying my boobs look great doesn’t count. And it especially doesn’t count when you say it for every single outfit I’ve tried on.”

“You want me to lie?”

“I want you to focus on something other than my breasts.” She slips off her dark stilettos and pads her way to the cupboard, taking out a glass. 

“Kinda difficult in those dresses.”

“That is _no_ help.” She fills it with water and then turns around, leaning back against the sink so she can sip forlornly while maintaining eye contact. “What are people even supposed to wear to these things?”

“You’re thinking too hard about it.”

“That’s easy for you to say, all you have to do is decide between the vintage Tom Ford, the vintage Gucci, the Zo-ee or Zoi or however Zach’s stupid ‘zOi’ brand’s supposed to be pronounced-”

“It’s not technically his. He’s just an investor, and I think it’s meant to be ‘Sor-iah’?”

“Whatever. You have, like, three of those in black, at least.”

He walks up to her, shaking his head as he rinses out the bottle. “Not wearing a suit.”

“What do you mean you’re not wearing a suit? You have to wear a suit.” She puts down the glass. “What are you going to wear if you’re not wearing a suit?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know.” He looks down. “Probably something like this?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You are _not_ going to a funeral in sweats.”

“Jellybean,” he says slowly, “was a goldfish.”

“That’s not the point, this is Chibi-Usa’s first real encounter with loss-”

“Is it though?” He tosses the bottle into the recycling bin. “I wasn’t there for the ‘Black Lady’ fiasco but I’ve heard the stories.”

Makoto huffs. He might have a point but so does she. “Usagi was really upset, ok? And apparently she’s planned this whole big deal over it, so, you’re not wearing sweats.”

“This ‘whole big deal’ is ridiculous.”

“She’s queen of the world and she’s letting us live like normal humans in our own house, on a different continent, ten thousand kilometres away from them. She can be as ridiculous as she likes.” She picks up her glass again. “You’re going to wear a suit.”

He takes in a breath and then uses it to emit a deep, dramatic sigh. “Fine.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” she says, referring to her outfit. “I’m going to go try on something else… maybe something a little more summery. I don’t know.” Frustrated, she begins to make her way out of the kitchen. “If you’re going to make yourself a sandwich, make me one too, please? There’s ham on the top shelf in the back, behind the kimchi.”

Nando shifts on his feet. “I wasn’t, uh… I wasn’t going to make anything,” he says. 

Makoto, of course, becomes immediately suspicious.

“I mean- I was just… I can make you a sandwich. You want mustard?”

Her green eyes narrow. “If you weren’t making something, what are you doing in here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what are you doing in the kitchen? It’s not exactly a hang-out spot.”

He scoffs. “I can stand around in the kitchen if I want.”

“Like an absolute lemon?” she asks, grinning vaguely at his ostentatiousness. 

“Yes, like a lemon. It’s my house too.”

She hums in a way that clearly intends to patronise.

“What?” he demands. “I can’t get a soda?”

“You don’t drink soda unless you’re eating something.”

“That’s not true. I drink soda all the time.”

She watches him for a beat, not buying any of it and then takes in a deep sniff. She stops when she suddenly catches the scent of something, her grin dropping. She sniffs the air again, just to make sure she’s right, walking into the middle of the room. 

“Timmy fall down a well again?”

She ignores the jibe. “Who exactly was at the door when I was upstairs?” She doesn’t give him a chance to answer. “I smell tamales. I smell _Mrs Gonzalez’s from next door’s_ tomales!”

His mouth tightens into a line. “Maybe.”

“Nando!” she says, no longer finding it funny.

“What? It’s not like _I_ was making tamales!” 

Makoto scrunches her nose, utterly confused. “That’s not even-” She blinks, not understanding. “ _Why_ would I think for a second that you would be the one making tamales? You burn pasta.”

He seems genuinely affronted. “It was _one time_ and it was on _purpose_ -”

“Sure it was.”

“It _was_ , I was trying something! And I don’t know, I panicked. You seem mad.”

“Of course I’m mad,” she crosses her arms, “but it’s because you asked _Mrs Gonzalez_ to make you secret tamales! She’s a hundred and ninety seven years old, and Rafael’s on business in Australia. She shouldn’t be doing any difficult cooking when she’s home alone.”

“Okay, first off, of course I didn’t ask her to make me any, she came by and sprung it on me, like a tasty surprise. Second, they’re not _that_ difficult to make, I watch the same cooking shows as you,” he says when he sees she’s about to protest, “and third, she has a CareBot.”

“They only do the bare minimum. Why didn’t you tell me she was here?”

“How could I? You were busy trying on clothes for the fish funeral and she only came by for a minute.”

* * *

_“Be right there,” he said as he made his way into the kitchen._

_“Mr Fernando?”_

_Nando immediately recognised the sweet, feeble warble of his most elderly neighbour. “Tia?” he asked, only briefly glancing at the inbuilt camera and pressing the button to open the doors quickly. “Everything alright?”_

_The screen and metal doors slid back in unison to reveal a tiny old lady with an oversized plate barely covered in silver foil._

_Seeing her struggling to keep it upright he reached out. “Let me take those for you. Won’t you come in?”_

_“Oh, no. I’m just stopping by to drop those off. Thank you, Mr Fernando.”_

_“Nando please,” he said, placing them on the kitchen counter, “you’ve known me since I was born.”_

_“You weren’t one of those great Kings back then.”_

_He smiled at the compliment. “I don’t think I’m so great now.”_

_“Oh, Mr Fernando,” she sighed, “you mustn’t think that way. It’s not your fault.”_

_“Tia?” he asked, confused._

_“I heard about the tragedy that’s befallen your family.”_

_He looked up from peeking under the foil. “The what now?”_

_“Yes,” she said gravely, “the loss of a loved one is a great wound to the heart.”_

_There was clearly a misunderstanding, the food must have been for someone else. “Tia Paula-”_

_“Oh, I remember young Jim Beam-”_

_Nando frowned. ‘Jim Beam?’ It dawned on him. “Uh…”_

_“-running around in your yard all those years ago.”_

_He tried his best to hide his grin. “You sure about that, Tia?”_

_“What was that, dear?”_

_“Oh, nothing, nothing.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, so he gave her his most sincere expression. “Thank you for the tamales, it’s very thoughtful, and I’ll be sure to pass on your condolences. Would you like me to accompany you home?”_

_“What? Oh, yes please,” she said, and then patted him lightly on his cheek, “Still so sweet. Such a shame,” she sighed, “and so young too…”_

_“I know, Tia Paula, I know.”_

* * *

“How could you let her think that?!”

He waves off her concern. “She forgot about it by the time we got to her house and then I checked with her CareBot.”

“And?”

“It’s functioning fine, she just wanted to do something nice for us, and I for one, appreciate it.”

“Rafael’s not going to appreciate you taking advantage of his grandmother like that.”

“With the amount we’ve done for this community, he can spare some of her tamales.”

“Kind of defeats the point of living like regular people, doesn’t it?” 

“It’s not like they don’t all know who we really are.”

“So when you asked your home town to treat you the same way they’ve treated you since you were a boy, you meant that in every aspect other than when you want to steal their food.”

“It’s not stealing if she gave them willingly.”

“It’s fraud.”

“Fair,” he says, and then counters it with, “but they’re delicious, so-”

“How did she even find out about the funeral? I don’t remember saying anything to her.”

That’s an easy one to answer. “It looks like it’s been leaked in the tabloids. They’ve obviously run with it in some wildly random direction, you know how it is.”

“Urgh, Jae-sung’s supposed to be on top of that kind of thing.”

“I’m guessing he’s the one who leaked it, probably thought it was hilarious,” he smiles, finding it hilarious, too. 

She slips back into her stilettos. “I don’t find any of this amusing.”

“You’re just mad because you think I ate all the tamales and didn’t save you any.”

She scoffs. “I don’t- I mean that has _nothing_ to do with this,” she says, outraged at the very _idea._ “I’m not petty about food like _some_ people I know, you’re- you’re just trying to avoid the fact that you took advantage of a sweet, old- I would _never-_ they’re _tamales_ , it’s not like-” She gives up when it’s clear that he’s not buying any of it. “Well, did you?”

“What?” he asks, “Eat them all? Of course not. You’re my wife, I wouldn’t do you dirty like that.” He opens the fridge and pulls out a plate.

She looks at it and then at him. “There are two.”

“Yeah,” he says proudly, “one spicy pork, one cheesy bean.”

“Mrs Gonzalez never makes less than ten.”

He looks at the plate, seemingly confused as to why she isn’t happy. “This time she did.”

“Liar.” 

He stands upright. “I never lie.”

Makoto’s not buying it. “How many did she make?”

“Nine.”

“Nando!”

At her frustration his face cracks into a big grin and he begins chuckling. “I’m kidding.” He goes back into the fridge, feeling like his prank has been the absolute height of comedy. “Here,” he unwraps the foil to reveal seven mini yellow pillows, stacked on top of each other.

“So all that was just to mess with me?”

“You’ve spent an hour stressing over what to wear. I figured you could use the laugh.” Seeing her face he shrugs. “Points for trying?”

She shakes her head at his antics. The presence of the tamales have gone a long way to temper her mood. “Sure.”

He knew it would. “By the way, as a reward for not eating any, I think I should get five of them and you get four.”

She picks up one of the two from the first plate and shoves it into her mouth, biting off more than half. “Mmm, deesh ish sho goog.” 

“I know.”

She swallows it down and then looks at him, assessing. “If I get the fifth one, you get to wear slacks and a polo shirt to the fish funeral.”

“No deal. I’ll take the uncomfortable suit and the extra spicy pork.”

“Uh, no. _I’ll_ take the spicy pork. If you get more tamales than me, you get the lesser ones.”

He brings out his trump card. “I’ll wear the slim fit thing I wore to your work party last month.”

“Oh,” her eyes widen at the prospect, liking the idea very much indeed, “oh, deal.”

He rolls his eyes. “You just want to ogle my ass, and at a funeral no less. Despicable.”

“It’s a goldfish so I don’t think it’s _too_ disrespectful, and it’s only fair. You’re getting the spicy pork, after all.” She licks a piece of cheese from her finger. “You think we should bring a gift or something? Since it’s for Chibi-Usa?”

“Yeah, sure. How about a book on raising goldfish?”

Makoto snorts. “Jerk.”

“How about another goldfish, then?”

“Nando!” She’s grinning as she shoves him. “That’s even worse!”

“Why? How long does proper etiquette dictate you’re supposed to wait before you replace a fish?”

“That’s not it.”

“Then why not?” He’s deliberately being obtuse.

“You _know_ why.”

“I don’t.” 

She doesn’t want to say it, and he’s clearly goading her into it. So she takes a bite out of the tamale in his hand instead. 

“Hey!” 

“I don’t want us to have to go to _two_ fish funerals in the same year,” she admits.

He picks up another tamale from the plate. “If anything,” he says, shoving the whole thing into his mouth, chewing it without breaking eye contact and then only finishing his sentence when he swallows it down, “ _you’re_ the one insulting our queen by implying she can’t even take care of a fish.”

“You started it.” She goes to the fridge. “Want another soda?”

“Yeah. You reckon Luna might have eaten him? Dimi did say Jellybean perished under mysterious circumstances...”

Makoto’s about to protest in defence of her friend but she stops, realising he might actually have a point. “Let’s just get Chibi-Usa a plushie.”

“Better get one for Usagi, too,” he suggests, taking a bottle. “Bottoms up?”

She rolls her eyes at his terrible joke. “Don’t quit your day job,” she says and clinks her soda with his. 


	2. Jadeite, Diana, NQS (Sneaking in the Kitchen)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Lyrhia.
> 
> I was prompted with "Diana, Jadeite: stealthy/sneaky in the kitchen" with extra characters if I wanted. I have used a teensy bit of artistic license here with the ‘stealthy/sneaky’ part, but it is certainly very fluffy. Enjoyyyy!

“Oh, hey,” Jae Sung stops short of reaching the counter. “Another step forward and you would have been a much flatter cat.”

Diana’s meow is soft, high pitched, barely heard if he hadn’t been standing right above her, his gaze trained down to focus on the tiny furball. 

When she meows again he smiles indulgently and bends down to pick her up. She’s barely the size of his palm and her eyes are too wide for her face. No wonder Dimi’s in love. “Hungry?”

Diana purrs as he rubs the side of his finger against her cheek. “Does that count as a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

Jae Sung turns around to find Serenity standing behind him. Her hair is a little frazzled and she’s pink in the face.

“You lost her,” he says, not even needing to ask. 

“I did n-” she stops and sighs, knowing it’s futile to pretend she hasn’t just been sprinting all over the palace in a desperate search for her guardian’s month old baby, “I did. I lost a kitty and it was terrible and stressful and awful and I only looked away for a _second_.” She walks in and heads directly for the cabinet loaded with all the sweet snacks. “Luna asked me to look after her for a few hours since the nanny’s sick. Want one?” She extends her hand out, offering him a mini pack of chocolate chip cookies.

He shakes his head. “Rulers of the world and it’s still impossible to find a sitter when you need one?”

“Tell me about it,” she says, except her face is full of cookie so it comes out more as, “ _chell be amowbit_.”

Diana tries to manoeuvre out of his hand, which brings Jae Sung’s attention back to her. “Hey, careful girl, careful. I don’t really want to be responsible for the death of something so adorable, and especially not when your father’s such a drag.”

The queen snorts. “Give him a break, he’s a first time dad,” she says and then jams another cookie into her mouth.

He lifts Diana so that they’re eye to eye. “Then what was his excuse beforehand?” He brings her close and uses the tip of his nose to gently brush her fur. 

“He’s not _that_ bad. You’re just being jerkish because he doesn’t like you.”

Jae Sung grins. 

“Wait,” she frowns, “I didn’t mean it to come out like that.”

“But it did.” He places the kitten gently onto the counter. And then, because he doesn’t want her to feel bad. “It’s not like I didn’t already know.”

“If it helps, he likes Kedar even less?” She stops herself, realising that doesn’t sound very nice either. “Uh, I need some milk. I’m, um, I’m going to get milk to help wash the taste of my foot out of my mouth.”

His grin widens. “It does help, actually - it’s a great feeling not to be number one on someone’s most disliked list.” 

“It just takes him a while to trust people,” she calls out from the kitchen’s enormous walk-in fridge. 

“It’s been a whole decade since the Freeze.”

“Ok, so it takes him a _long_ while. Why don’t we have any whole milk? What’s with all this skinny nonsense?” 

“Dimi’s new daily formal wear,” he notices as he watches the kitten try and find her feet, “it’s the same colour as Diana’s fur.”

“Oh, found it!” she says, triumphant. “You mean the lavender three piece with the cape?” 

“Yes. You reckon he chose that on purpose? To match this one?” He squats down to that he’s eye-level with Diana again. “Hey cutie,” he says softly. She lets out another tiny meow in response. 

Serenity comes rushing out, milk in hand, eyes wide with the revelation. “You know what?” she says, “You’re _right_ … You’re totally right!” Her face breaks out into a wide grin and she begins to giggle at the idea. “ _Oh my gosh, my husband is so cute!_ ”

He is, Jae Sung thinks. “He’d never admit it, though.”

“Of course not.” 

He looks over to his queen when she reaches for a glass and he finds it equally adorable that her face is flushed. Even after all this time, she’s still a love-struck dork. He is too, he supposes, though perhaps with someone a little less… receptive. Diana approaches his face and meows at his nose. “When is she going to be able to talk?”

Serenity shrugs, and somehow the simple act derails her attempt to pour liquid into a glass without spillage. “Oops.” She goes to the sink to fetch a cloth and turns to see Diana meandering over to mop up the excess. “Oh no, kitty! This isn’t the kind of milk you should be drinking yet.”

Jae Sung reaches her before Serenity does and picks her up quickly. “I thought all cats drink milk,” he says, explaining why he didn’t stop her from going after it. 

“It’s not as healthy as it seems. And she’s really young. She’s still weaning,” she clucks lightly to catch Diana’s attention, tickling behind the kitten’s ear with her finger, “aren’t you, little one?” She goes back to wiping down the table. “Even though she’s born in cat form, she’s supposed to be growing at a human rate, which would explain why she’s still so small. It’s probably going to be a little while before she’s ready to speak, but I‘m not sure.” She scrunches her nose as she ponders. “When do babies usually start talking? A year?”

“I think so, you’d have to ask Ami.” Diana begins to purr against his chest. “What about transforming?”

“I asked Luna about that the other day. Apparently it’s something she has to be taught how to do, but she can’t start too young, or too old, either,” she picks up her glass of milk and dunks a cookie into it, “she told me it would more difficult to learn once all her bones have fused but I got lost by the science.”

“You mean you stopped listening because skeletons creep you out.”

“Uh, no.” Her eyes shift away. “Maybe.”

He smiles and says nothing as he goes back to watching Diana. She’s warily approaching a salt shaker but curiosity’s gotten the better of her, so she takes an experimental sniff. 

“I suppose I have to take her back, she’s hungry and Luna’ll be out of her meeting by now.” 

He feels a hint of pity being sent his way. When he looks up to confirm Serenity hurriedly refocuses her attention onto her now-mushy cookie, which plops back into her glass before she can get it into her mouth. “Dammit.” She moves away to find a fork. “I’m sure Luna would appreciate the help looking after her tomorrow?” she says, trying way too hard to sound nonchalant. “Endy and I are stuck in this super boring thing until four o’clock and the nanny’s got a bad cold, so I don’t think she’s going to be able to come to work, either.”

“I’m not sure Artemis would allow that.” He smooths his knuckles over Diana’s spine before he passes her to Serenity. “Don’t worry about it,” he picks up the milk and puts it back into the walk-in. “I’ll survive. I’m not quite as attached to her as Dimi is.”

The queen sighs. “Things will get better,” she promises, “they just all need time.”

He comes out holding pasta, a gallon bottle of red sauce, chilli peppers, pancetta and various blocks of cheese. “I know,” he says, reassuringly. “But you’d better take her back before her mother starts to panic.”

She scrunches her nose, unhappy with the fact that he doesn’t sound convinced. “Ok, but don’t start eating without me.” He looks up at that. “What? You think you can make your spicy, cheesy, Arabic frittata thingy and I’m not going to have any?” 

It takes him a second to understand what she’s trying to say. “It’s penne all’arrabbiata,” he corrects, chuckling at how badly she’s butchered the Italian. 

“That’s what I said.” Diana meows and Serenity gives the kitten a light kiss on her head to calm her. “Say bye, Diana. Say ‘bye bye uncle Jae Sung!’”

The kitten begins to meow louder, sounding mildly distressed. 

“You’d better take her to her mother. She’s had a big adventure all by herself today, she must be exhausted.”

“I didn’t lose her for that long!”

He ignores her indignation in favour of a more practical response. “How hungry are you?”

“I ran the entire length of the palace at least three times for this little squirt,” she says affectionately as she heads out the kitchen, “I’m starving.”

Jae Sung looks down at the ingredients, assessing what he’s brought out. “Definitely going to need more pasta, then.” He goes back into the fridge to get the rest.


	3. Diana, Zoisite, NKE (Penguins)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Lyrhia who prompted me with "Diana, Zoisite - Penguins". 
> 
> I was allowed any other characters, which unfortunately led me to focus a little bit away from Diana. But hey, King Endymion, so... I am forgiven, yes? Yes. Yes, I am.

Neo King Endymion sits on his throne with a tiny child, dressed in matching lavender, nestled in his lap. One of his hands hovers just above the dried blood of a shallow scrape on her knee, healing it carefully with his power.

While he does this he glares at his Zoisite, who’s standing awkwardly in front of him, metaphorically sweating under his gaze. _Good_ , he thinks, _he absolutely deserves it_.

Soren might be the most beautiful and - supposedly - the most intelligent man on the planet, but he’s also a complete dill hole (the Queen’s words, said with affection but no less untrue). Helpfully providing proof of such a character assessment is the moist, black and white, flightless bird - about thigh height - currently pottering around the vast space of the CT Palace's main throne room. 

“Why?” Endymion asks. 

“I can explain-”

He pinches the bridge of his nose with the hand not being used to heal Diana’s injury. “I’m already sorry I asked.” It never bodes well when Soren is nervous. 

“You haven’t even heard my excuse yet.”

“By all means,” he says, with no small amount of sarcasm, “continue.”

“So Diana wanted-”

“Still regretting it.”

“What?" Soren has the audacity to look affronted. "I’m supposed to say no to her? To the _literal kitten-child_? Exactly two seconds after she falls over?”

Endymion answers him with no hesitation. “Yes, obviously you’re supposed to say no.”

Soren scoffs. “Bullsh-” he stops himself just in time, “-izzle.” Diana seems too focussed on watching the penguin to have noticed, so he goes back to his point. “You’ve never refused either of the kids anything in their entire lives.”

That is completely untrue. “I’ve never bought home a penguin.”

“Uh, yes,” Soren says, “you have.”

He puts on his most authoritative king-voice. “If you’ll recall, that was Nando and Cairo, and it was before I’d even met any of you, so try again.”

Diana looks up at Endymion. “What’s a bushizzle?”

“It’s a bad word, kid,” Soren answers instead, “so stop saying it or you’ll get me into more… uh, shizzle.”

“Oh you’re already in enough shizzle to-” he stops at Diana’s light tugging on his lapel. 

“Is booboo gone?”

He smiles gently at her and then takes a quick scan of her knee. “It is,” he says. “All better.”

“May I go play with Chibi-Usa now?”

“Sure.” He scratches lightly under her chin and then picks her up, placing her on the floor. 

“Can pegwim come too?”

“I’m afraid not.” He slides off his seat so that he can squat at eye level with her. “He has to go back home to the zoo.”

Diana pouts, and looks to the bird pulling a likely-priceless trinket from a low table. “But I want him to stay,” she says. 

“He can’t, little one, his family will miss him too much," he explains in a soft voice. "Wouldn't you miss us if someone took you away for a very long time? Even if it was just to play?”

Diana thinks about this, and then decides that, ultimately, the King has a point. “Okay,” she states and then runs out of the room without sparing either of them - or the penguin - a second glance.

“You see that?” he asks as he sits himself back onto his elaborate chair. “That’s how you ensure you don’t need to bribe a zoo to let you take a penguin home.”

“Oh sure, it’s easy when you have righteous anger on your side and not two sobbing toddlers emotionally blackmailing you in front of a holiday crowd at the zoo.”

He frowns, not liking that at all. “Chibi-Usa was crying?”

Soren throws his hands up in the air. “Of course she was crying. Diana was crying next to her because she’d scraped her knee, so she panicked. And with those two crying, a random set of twins standing next to us started crying, too. It was like she’d activated a hellish chain of weeping children. Everywhere I looked, little kids were crying.”

This is clearly all a fallacy. “My daughter does not ‘panic’.”

“Which daughter are you thinking about? The nine hundred year old version, or the one that tried to murder you all?”

“Just- just take it back.”

“‘It’ is actually a ‘he’.”

“He’s a _penguin_.”

“He has a name.”

“I don’t care.”

“ _Squawk_!”

Their attention shifts to the screeching bird violently slapping its wings at the table. “Look what you've done. You’ve offended Endy the Second.”

He's taken by surprise at that. “That’s what they called him?” he can't help the little grin on his face.

“Yeah." Soren tries to act as if the penguin isn't causing absolute havoc behind him. "Why do you think Diana wanted to bring him home?”

The flattery only saves Soren for a very brief moment. As soon as Endymion realises he’s softening he glares even harder. “Return him. Now. And let’s just hope it doesn’t get out that the Zoisite of Crystal Tokyo used his clout to violate a plethora of animal welfare regulation purely for the entertainment of the royal household.”

Soren rolls his eyes. “Fine,” he says, but he doesn’t move, and instead starts to look even more uncomfortable than before. 

“What?” Endymion asks with trepidation. 

“I might have promised the zoo a donation for letting me-”

“Not my problem,” he says, dismissively. “You have your own budget, use it.”

“A _sizeable_ donation.”

“Still no.”

“A _really_ sizeable donation,” he says, “and the sooner you agree, the sooner I can remove the source of the fish smell from your throne room.”

At that the penguin rushes up to Soren and glares evilly at him. “ _Squawk_!”

“Oh, stop complaining. You reek and you know it.”

Endymion sighs. Heavily. “Talk to Eddie,” he relents, a headache brewing. “Maybe we can write it off as a charitable expense.”

Soren bows excessively low. “May a thousand blessings be heaped upon you, oh wise and generous King.”

“Get out.”

“Fair enough. Come on Endy-two-point-oh, we have to make an important stop first.”

He starts to panic at that. “What are you-”

“Don’t ask, or you won’t be able to benefit from plausible deniability,” Soren says, a glint in his eyes, “but in case you’re interested, it involves Cairo and a smart phon-”

“No!”

“I was kidding, Dimi. Lighten up,” he says. “Unless...” 

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Urgh,” the Zoisite rolls his eyes and makes his way out of the room, penguin in tow. “Killjoy.”

Endymion slumps into his throne.


	4. Kunzite, Jadeite, mentions of Minako (Purple Scrunchie)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Beej88!
> 
> The prompt was actually Kunzite, Minako (but hey, at least she's mentioned?) XD

Why or how Jae Sung had managed to convince himself that jogging at five a.m. after a night of heavy party-related drinking would be a good idea is an utter mystery, but one he makes a mental note to never, ever, repeat. Struggling not to collapse while stumbling through the front door, he makes a bee-line to the kitchen sink, whereupon he sucks down so much cold water directly from the tap he almost immediately throws it back up again. 

“You stink.”

Having not expected another human being to be conscious at such a ludicrous hour in the morning, let alone another member of his own household (who had all stayed out far later than he had), Jae Sung jerks backwards in a double take, and then slips on a self-made floor puddle (from all the tap-drinking), landing on his ass with about as much grace as a flamingo on roller skates. “Thanks for the near coronary, shit head,” he says once his butt cheek stops throbbing and his breathing takes on a more regulated pace. “Glad to know it now comes with free insults.”

His offender is a six foot three, white-haired lump trying its best to appear as if it’s capable of sitting upright on the couch, when clearly the only thing keeping it that way is the mountain of scatter cushions piled up behind it. “You look like shit,” says said offender. 

Jae Sung gives him a once over. Bleary eyes, unshaven, limp hair and skin reminiscent of a dehydrated sponge, it’s arguable Khalid Matthews is in even worse shape than he is, and _he’s_ sweating buckets of alcohol and b.o. while the whole room spins. “Uh, ditto?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

Jae Sung often forgets that his friend has the pop cultural awareness of a hundred year old hermit, so it was, admittedly, unfair to expect Khalid to get something as obscure as a line from a chick flick from the nineteen eighties. “I didn’t think anyone would be awake yet.”

Khalid takes a miserable sip from his oversized bottle of Gatorade, and then sinks further into the couch. “Why are you up?”

His eye catches an offensively purple… _something,_ resting in Khalid’s free hand. “I left the party early. Didn’t want to get as wasted as you guys, I have a midterm in two days.”

That doesn’t really answer the question, but Jae Sung doesn’t have sufficient brain function to both explain his initial (and very, very, _very_ flawed) reasoning for his going on an early run, and decipher what that thing is in his friend’s hand at the same time. 

Khalid makes a non-committal hum and nurses his drink. Apparently his brain isn’t functioning well enough to care about the answer, either. 

“What is that?”

“This?” He lifts it so that Jae Sung has a clearer view of it from his place on the floor by the sink.

“Yeah,” he frowns, thinking he’s managed to identify it, “is that a hair scrunchie?” 

“Yes.” Khalid glares at it some more. 

“Why are you looking at it like that?”

“Like what?” He glances up, his gray irises ghostly pale spots amid veiny, bloody sclera which, frankly, is just terrifying.

“Like it bit your dog or something.”

He frowns, which seems to be a permanent state of being for hungover-Khalid. “I don’t have a dog,” he says, confused. 

“It was a figure of speech.”

“Oh.” He looks back at the scrunchie, slightly embarrassed. “English isn’t my first language.”

Bullshit. “You can’t use the bilingual excuse. You said you’ve been speaking it since you could talk, you’re just lame.”

“I’m not lame,” he says, which confirms the fact that he is, indeed, a complete goofball, “I’m hungover.”

Jae Sung snorts, and then instantly regrets it because it feels like someone’s revved a motorcycle on top of his head. “No shit.”

“I have a cat.”

That gets his attention. “You have a cat?”

“Yeah.”

“You never told me that.”

Khalid shrugs and then sips his Gatorade. “Never asked.”

“What’s its name?”

“Cat.”

Christ. “Of course it is.” He decides, wisely, to abandon further investigation into what is likely to be a series of the most boring pet-owner stories known to man in exchange for obtaining further information about the silky, purple elastic thing he’s rolling through his fingers like a lover’s left nipple. “So what’s with the scrunchie?”

“I was wearing it when I woke up.”

“You were wearing it when you woke up?”

“Why do you keep repeating what I say as a question?”

Unable to stay upright for much longer, Jae Sung drags himself up and over to the fridge, opens it, scowls at its contents, begrudgingly chooses the only remaining Gatorade flavour left (a bright aqua, sugar-free monstrosity) and then stumbles to the two person loveseat before collapsing on it, face forward. “Because I’m also hungover, I might even still be drunk,” he answers as he cracks open his drink. “Urgh, this is going to be gross.” He scrunches his face in disgust, confirming that it is, indeed, disgusting. “This tastes like sweet armpit.”

“You’re a lightweight-”

“No I’m not.”

“-but you’re not _that_ bad. You’re probably dehydrated from the run and sleep deprived.”

Jae Sung’s still hung up over the lightweight comment. “I’ll have you know I had three cups of whatever was in that open punch bowl, plus everything we pre-gamed.”

Khalid suddenly looks at Jae Sung like he’s just been told he saved a kid’s favourite toy from a burning building: incredibly brave, but also, _are you a freaking dumbass?_ Nobody ever goes near an open punch bowl unless their intent is to possibly die. “Yeah, ok, maybe you’re still drunk.”

Jae Sung realises now that that might be the real reason for his having thought a run would be a good idea, but that’s neither here nor there. “I still don’t get it,” he says. 

“Get what?”

“The scrunchie.”

“She used it to pull my hair back when I-” he doesn’t finish the sentence. “It was hers and she pulled it off her own hair. For me.”

Jae Sung skims over the girl and the odd, sudden softness in Khalid’s voice in favour of a juicier tidbit. “You hurled?” he asks. “Is that why you're sitting here, still awake, sucking down the grossest Gatorade color?”

“What’s wrong with yellow?”

 _Everything_. “Don’t change the subject, you threw up.”

Khalid’s pride is clearly stung at the accusation. “I don’t recall.”

Jae Sung snorts, and then regrets it again. But this shit’s too hilarious, he can’t help it. “I smell smoke,” he says. 

Khalid doesn’t get it. “What?”

“Your pants are on fire.”

“What?”

“Urgh,” Jae Sung rolls his eyes and drinks some of his terrible Gatorade. “I’m calling you a liar,” he explains. 

“What does that have to do with my pants?”

“Jesus.” The idea of how out of touch he is with his own homeland’s idioms and cultural paradigms is a source of personal exhaustion for Jae Sung. Fortunately, though, he has more interesting meat to feed him. “So you and this girl. Did you… do the nasty?”

“Urgh.”

“That’s a no, then.”

“That’s none of your business,” Khalid says curtly. 

“That’s definitely a no. Was it on account of the fact that you threw up on her?”

“What?” Khalid looks affronted at the idea. “I didn’t-”

“Or that you were too drunk?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Was it-” he interrupts, becoming incredibly serious, “was it because you stole her ridiculous hair accessory?”

“It wasn’t ridiculous. She’d come from an 80s-themed party at-” he stops and frowns again, thinking hard, “-phi gamma delta.” The fact that he remembers has him looking hopeful. “She looked beautiful.”

Jae Sung would have lifted an eyebrow if the very idea of doing so didn't make him want to cry. “You sure?”

“Legs for days. Pretty eyes, great… smile.”

He realises Khalid’s being way too gentlemanly about this. “Hot?”

“That’s what I just said, isn’t it?” He looks at the scrunchie again. “She was so beautiful she almost didn’t seem real.”

Jae Sung immediately becomes suspicious. “How drunk were you, exactly?”

“I know what I saw.”

“Ok, Matthews, whatever you say.” He goes to drink his Gatorade again but decides against it. “So who was she?”

“No idea.”

“Did you get a phone number?”

“No.”

He sits up at that. “Why not?”

“Darien had my phone.”

“Why?” Realising that moving is an incredibly regrettable experience, he flops back down again. 

“I don’t remember.”

“Probably to text Serena,” he suggests. “His battery’s always dying.”

“Yes,” he says, looking like he vaguely remembers, “yeah, that was it.”

“We need to get him a new phone. Why didn’t you get her to write it down, at least?” 

Khalid looks away. “I was really preoccupied.”

Jae Sung’s never one to withhold a good ribbing. “You mean you couldn’t ask because you were too busy throwing up?”

“No,” he says immediately. And then, since it’s such a blatant lie, “Maybe.”

“Did you get a name at least?”

Khalid glares at the scrunchie like that’ll somehow get it to talk. “Dinah?” he tries, but it’s clearly not right. “Uh, Nina? Mia?”

“OK, wow, so memorable you can’t even remember her name.”

“She has gentle hands.”

“She had gentle… hands?” Jae Sung’s not even sure what to do with that information. He sighs instead. “Did you at least add her on Snapchat?” He ignores the look he’s given in favour of suggesting other social media platforms. “Insta? Facebook?” he tries, “Tinder?”

“Why would I add her on Tinder if I’d already met her? Anyway, like I said, I didn’t have my phone.”

“Yeah, ok, fair.” He braces himself and takes a gulp from his Gatorade. 

Khalid raises the scrunchie. “She took it from her hair and used it to tie mine out of my face.” He says it with an unnecessary amount of reverence. “I think… I think I’m in love with her,” he admits.

Jae Sung’s splutters violently just as the liquid’s making its way down his throat. 

He’d be laughing his ass off if he wasn’t currently drowning in Gatorade, instead he’s coughing neon aqua fake sugar water out his nose while a metaphorical hammer beats in time on his temples.

Once he’s over his fit he realises Khalid just sat there and watched. “Uh, thanks for the concern?”

“Serves you right for laughing.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You would have.”

He’s got a point, but honestly? He just doesn’t have the energy for this. His drink sucks, his head is now pounding and he’s still drunk. “Hey, them's the breaks. Maybe you’ll get lucky and you’ll meet her again someday, but even if you don’t, at least you’ll always have the purple scrunchie?”

For a while Khalid says nothing, fixing Jae Sung with that unnerving demon-glare. “I’ve got to find her,” he announces suddenly and then stands up, unexpectedly determined and energetic. 

“Uh, sure, man,” he says warily. Maybe Khalid’s still drunk, too. 

Seconds pass with nothing happening and Jae Sung begins to wonder just how long this burst of energy’s going to last. He sits in waiting, tense, trying to predict which direction he’s probably going to need to dive in if Matthews topples. “Love, uh, triumphs over all?” he says, hoping to prompt a response. 

More seconds of non-movement pass by before Khalid’s eyes widen. 

“Uh oh.” Jae Sung recognises that look of sheer panic. “All except for hangovers, I suppose,” he says as Khalid dashes to the bathroom and begins making loud, wrenching noises. “You want me to tie your hair back for you? I have gentle hands!” 

Khalid probably wants to flip him off, but he hurls some more instead. 


	5. Rei, Jadeite (Sucker Bets)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was R/J "I don't take sucker bets" from Caffieneivore. 
> 
> This uses their 90s anime personalities more than anything, also it addresses a subject near and dear to both Caffieneivore and my hearts. Something which MochiBuni insists on tormenting us with! *shakes fist* 
> 
> Fic based on this: https://mochibuni.tumblr.com/post/620791837868933120/late-night-trolly-doodles

Jae Sung’s pulling his cup out of the microwave as Rei steps through the front door.

She can't see him doing it, but she can hear him, and it has her hackles raised immediately. “I’m home,” she announces. 

“Want some tea?" he calls, as if he is being a considerate boyfriend and not actually in the process of committing the most grievous social crime on all of planet Earth. "I’m just making some.”

Rei lets out a derisive snort as she walks to him in the kitchen. It had been a long and not-very-fun lunch, so her tolerance isn't exactly at its highest. “You might be born and raised as an American heathen, but you’re Asian, you should know better.”

“I’m _third generation_ Korean,” he says immediately on the defensive at her comment, “and also, mom’s Norwegian, I barely fit into the convenient box you’re trying to put me in.” He's not sitting at the table, either, like a polite, civilised person would do when drinking a hot beverage. Instead he's standing like a tree in the middle of the kitchen, taking up all the space while he clinks a metal spoon loudly against the china as he stirs.

She isn’t going to allow any of his excuses, his faux pas is too severe. “You’re literally living in Japan. With me. And you’ve been doing so for the past half decade. That's given you plenty of time to figure out the nuances of our culture.”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, “and before that I might have had an _inkling_ as to what K-Pop was? I think I’d had sushi, like, three times? There's still a lot of stuff I don't know. But what’s your point? What have I done this time?”

She looks pointedly at the cup. 

At first he doesn't follow, but then her eyes dip again and he looks down at the steaming liquid. “This?”

“We have a kettle.”

“You have to use the stove to heat it. It takes a quarter of the time in the microwave.”

“So?”

“So it's a cup of tea, Rei,” he says. “And what does that have to do with my having Asian ancestry?”

“Tea making is in your blood-”

“My what?” 

“It's in your _soul,_ and if you'd just listen to it you'd hear it screaming out against the very idea of using a microwave, especially to make something as delicate and complex as tea.”

He thinks vaguely that he should be offended by her outburst, but she's so passionate about it he finds himself more amused than anything... and he _might_ be doing this a little bit on purpose just to get a rise out of her. “Kinda dramatic, babe?”

“It is _not_.” 

“I'm not the only person who does it like this, you know. I'm pretty sure this is how most of America makes it.”

“Most of America is wrong.”

He can't exactly argue with that. “Fair point. Still doing it.” 

The man is infuriating. She's fully aware that he's deliberately pushing her buttons, but _urgh_ , does he know how to press them. “You’re spitting in the face of tradition. Thousands of years of learning, development and art thrown aside for the sake of convenience.”

“They also didn’t have indoor plumbing back then, you want me to pee in the bushes when the caffeine’s run its course?”

 _Ew_ , she thinks, _he always has to be crude_. “I want you to stop microwaving water. It’s dangerous.”

“That’s why I put the tea in there, too.”

Rei’s about two seconds away from committing murder. “That ruins it!” 

“Tastes fine to me,” he says, “you’re just a tea snob.”

“Well, _you’re_ betraying an entire continent.”

He becomes incredibly still at that, and for a passing moment she’s genuinely afraid she’s upset him (betrayal tends to be a sore topic amongst the Shitennou). 

Without breaking eye contact he takes a slow, deliberate sip. “It’s still cold,” he says, and then unblinking, eyes fixed on her, he slips the cup back into the microwave, his hands moving instinctively over the buttons to blast it with literal electromagnetic radiation for a full minute and a half. 

Too stubborn to look away, she watches him watch her, crossing her arms, huffing and flicking her hair out of her face to dispel the intensity of his eyes. The minute lasts for what feels like an hour, her gaze flitting between her boyfriend and the cup rotating amongst the mechanical humming of the microwave, her inner traditionalist wailing in despair as all the tea’s aromatic qualities are methodically destroyed and it gradually turns it into a bitter, brown, watery mess. 

The _beep, beep, beep_ , signals the tea’s final demise and, at this point, it’s almost a relief. “Mmm,” he says as he takes it out and sips it, “betrayal tastes delicious.”

She rolls her eyes and gives in. It’s something she’s been doing a lot more of lately- giving in, not fighting every single battle. Minako thinks it’s an improvement of her character, not that her opinion is much to go by with these things, especially because, “They broke up again.” Rei places her purse and coat on the wall rack.

“I didn’t even know they were back together,” he says, “how many times does that make this?”

Rei shrugs and then opens the fridge, leaning in. “I lost count after four.”

“Who did it this time?”

“Him.”

He chuckles into the abomination in his cup. “Yeah, like that’s going to last long.”

“She claims he was serious.”

“Khalid’s an intense guy,” he says. “Doesn’t mean he always means what he says.”

“Well, she was pretty angry about it,” she pulls out a lychee-flavoured ice tea and sets it on the table, “I don’t think she’s going to accept him back if he changes his mind.”

He looks at her, incredulous. 

“No, I mean it,” she says, getting a glass from one of the upper cabinets. “She wouldn’t stop talking about how furious she was over the whole thing. We spent all of our lunch date listening to her rant.”

“What led to it?”

“A hair tie.”

“A hair tie?” he repeats.

“I know, right? Of all the dumb things to fight about.”

“I'm pretty sure you were just about to dump me over some tea.”

“I still might,” she says. “It has to do with how they first met - she'd used one to pull his hair back at a college party or something.”

“Yeah,” he's frowning, trying to remember, “I know that story.”

“He's claiming it was red, she says it was green and then one disagreement led to another and everything sort of blew up.”

“Well,” he takes another sip of his garbage water and forgets to hide his grimace from her, “I was there the next day when he was holding on to it like it was his only life line.”

She waits for a beat and then realises that he’s deliberately withholding what she wants to know. “And?” she asks, playing his game. “Who’s right?”

“Neither of them. It was purple,” he reveals.

“Huh,” she says, “I think I remember that one.”

“So you really think this is it for them?” 

She shrugs as she pours her drink. “That’s what she’s claiming.”

“Care bet on it?” he proposes, “Because I don’t believe it for a second. If they’re not back together within the half year- hell, if they’re not back together within the next _month_ , I’ll stop microwaving my tea.”

She gives him a long, hard look. “I don’t take sucker bets.”

“See?” His grin is ear to ear. “You pretend to be a cold bitch, but you’re a romantic at heart.”

“Nope.”

“You are.” He puts his tea down and wraps her into his arms. “You think he’s her lobster.”

She has no idea what he’s referencing, but she’s been with him long enough to know when he’s referencing _something_. “I don't know what that means.”

“You’re my lobster, too, babe,” he says kissing her on the top of her head. “It means you're stuck with me for life.” He pulls away, picks up his cup and walks out the kitchen. 

“I am so confused,” she says, and then follows him out with her glass. 

“You and me both. I just got chewed out for offering to make you tea.”

He grins during the entire, ensuing tirade. 


	6. Rei, Jadeite (Reconciliation)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted by TeamVanessaCloud who felt bad because I said Jadeite was no longer my friend after Mochi drew that comic of him microwaving his tea (still mad). 
> 
> The prompt was: Rei, Jadeite, “Reconciliation”
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing about baseball. Please forgive me if you do.
> 
> Small warning, I drop one ‘f’ bomb .

“Rei!” Jae Sung storms into the kitchen to find his girlfriend calmly sipping from a steaming, rustic cup. “My friendship with Sebastian is cancelled.”

“I heard.” She gives him a brief once over, but even though she finds him in perfect health (albeit sweaty and dirty), she still checks. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” he says, taking off his cap, tossing it onto the counter and then scrubbing at his hair agitatedly, “but if luck hadn’t been entirely on my side, I wouldn’t have been. He went too far this time.”

Seeing he’s no worse for wear, she goes back to sipping at her tea. “Ami doesn’t seem to think so.”

He scoffs. “Ami wasn’t there,” he says and then frowns. “Why, what did she have to say about it?”

“Here,” she passes him her phone, “read it for yourself.”

He eyes her, waiting to see if she’s going to explain further, but when she doesn’t he opens the app. “Uh, no,” he says as he scrolls down, “no,  _ no… _ ” his insistence becomes more emphatic the more he reads, “oh  _ hell _ no,” he says and then looks up, too annoyed to take anymore in. “ _ That lying little- _ ”

“You have a different version of events?” Rei asks before he can finish insulting his friend. 

“I damn well do,” he declares, “and I’m surprised at Ami, she’s normally more sensible than to just believe the first thing she hears.”

“Seb’s her husband,” she tries. 

“ _ Exactly _ . She should know better by now.”

“Is she not just doing what you’re expecting me to do?”

“I’m not an asshole who takes out his friends in a slide so fucking dirty it makes Manny Machado’s twenty seventeen antics look like a lover’s caress!”

“I don’t know what any of that means.”

“It means Sebastian sucks and you’re lucky you have an  _ intact _ boyfriend.”

She puts her tea cup down carefully. “That sounds a little dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

“It was a dramatic kick to my damn nether region, and I would appreciate some support from you on this.”

“Did you finish reading the messages?”

“No.”

She flicks her gaze to her phone, still in his hand, and then lifts the cup back to her lips. “Maybe you should do that before making snap judgements.”

He looks down and begins scrolling again. “Oh,” he says, pleasantly surprised at what he sees, and then he frowns. “Wait, what did you call me?”

“Forget that part,” she says hastily, “keep going.”

He does, his face softening the more he reads. “Aw, babe...”

“And I say those things despite your flagrant disregard for my culture.”

She is, of course, referring to the incident with the tea and the microwave - which, really, shouldn’t even  _ be _ considered an ‘incident’ because nothing bad actually happened other than him ending up with a mediocre hot beverage. To hear her tell it, though, it would have been less evil if he’d deliberately drowned a kitten. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

“Not as long as I’m alive to remind you.”

“Yeah, well Sebastian reheats the same cup of coffee at least three times and then ends up drinking it cold anyway. If anyone should be branded a heathen it’s him.”

“Coffee is disgusting. If I had to drink it I’d be putting it off for as long as possible, too.”

“That’s not the point I was trying to make.”

“Did Seb apologise?”

“Would I be this mad if he did?”

“Well, you’ll need to resolve this relatively soon,” she says, hitting him with the bad news, “Makoto says you’re both uninvited if you’re fighting.”

“How did she even-” he stops as it immediately occurs to him. “So Nehal’s too much of a chicken to ask her out, but he’ll whine to her about the fact that he’s the worst umpire the sport has ever been subjected to?”

“You’re losing me again.”

“His consistently incompetent calls are what led to the little shit thinking he could get away with that kind of slide.”

“So you’re almost-injury is Nehal’s fault?”

“No it’s  _ both _ Nehal’s and Sebastian’s faults and just because it was an ‘almost injury’ doesn’t make it less serious. It still hurt at the time.”

“You’re aware of the fact that you had a former-prince there who can pretty much heal any injury, yes?”

He shakes his head. “He bailed again.”

Rei furrows her brow, finding it unusual. Mamoru never passes up an opportunity to spend time with his Shitennou unless he has no choice. “Did he have an emergency at the hospital?”

“That’s what he says but everyone knows it’s bull, he’s still pouting because Khalid struck him out last time in his very first inning and Usagi was there to see it. But that’s not even the point - Makoto can’t uninvite me, I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“She said no drama.”

“I feel victimised by all this. There’s no reason why the two of us shouldn’t be allowed to go just because Sebastian’s an ass.”

Rei stills and it suddenly occurs to Jae Sung she’d been planning to go without him. 

“You  _ traitor! _ While you’re at it, why don’t you and Seb poke both my eyes out? You can get together and figure out which one of you takes the left and which takes the right!”

“I wasn’t-” she tries, but Rei hates lying so she gives up halfway. “Fine, I was going to go, but I was also going to bring you back leftovers.”

He throws his hands up and is clearly about to embark on an overly-dramatic tirade about love and loyalty so she cuts him off quickly. “Give me back my phone,” she says, reaching up. 

It works and he does as she asks. “What are you doing?”

“I’m texting Ami,” she explains as her fingers fly across the keys. After receiving a response and answering back, she elaborates further. “We’re going to get lunch with them tomorrow afternoon.”

“Uh, no.”

“I’m not missing Makoto’s Som Tam just because the Shitennou can’t play civilly with each other.”

He perks up at that. “She’s making Som Tam?” Makoto’s Thai is to die for. “Is she making Green Curry too?”

“With shrimp,” she confirms. “She promised Usagi.”

“Urgh, fine,” he relents, “I’ll meet with the dirty, nut-kicker but I do so under protest and only because Makoto insists.”

“Noted,” she says. “Now, would you like to calm yourself down with a soothing cup of non-microwaved tea?”

“Yes,” he sighs, estimating that the comments might stop in about, oh, a decade or two? “I would like that very much.”

“Great,” she says, inviting him to sit at the table with her, “now tell me all about what happened at your baseball match.”

He obliges. “It’s a game,” he corrects as he watches her head to the cabinet with the tea sets, “and you’re adorable.”

“Whatever,” she pulls out another cup, “and of course I am.”


	7. Ami (Skills) aka An Evening 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written for Cheerupemofic (prompted by the awesome CosmisCommander with "Ami - Skills") but it started to morph into what I was hoping to write as the last fic in my Crystal Tokyo series. 
> 
> For now I'm keeping it here, but I will probably come back to this sometime in the future, amend it heavily to get it in-line with the CT verse, and then post it there. 
> 
> As it is, this breaks a ton of the cheerupemofic rules, in that the rating for this is a borderline M, it's four times the max word limit, it's filled with innuendo and (attempts at) crude (somewhat sexual) humour, and it's a week late, so sincere apologies. 
> 
> Having said that, it's a feel-good fic, no real angst and ends well, so... enjoy? At least I didn't break *all* the rules, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING, THIS CHAPTER IS "T" RATED, BORDERLINE "M" FOR CRUDE HUMOUR.**

Ami isn’t exactly sure how a semi-formal catch-up dinner between the ten of them has devolved into the blissful, lounging mess they’re currently in, but she is sure a substantial amount of the blame can be justifiably placed on Mamoru’s shoulders, since he was the one to suggest the Pre-Freeze, Japanese single malt, and then disappeared to fetch it from his locked cabinet in the cellar before anyone had had a chance to answer him. 

It would be unfair of her to not also apportion some of the liability to Usagi, who refused to touch the ‘old man drink’ until she’d added enough sweet, alcoholic mixer to eradicate all hints of there having ever been any ‘cardboard-flavoured fire-booze’ in her glass in the first place. In doing so they discovered - to everyone’s surprise (including Usagi herself) - that their queen was actually a reasonably decent mixologist, which is why Ami does not remember when they moved from the dining table to one of the CT Palace’s many sitting rooms, or whose terrible suggestion it was to play the game. 

“Truth or dare?” 

Even though Jasha’s original Russian accent is nearly undetectable under the neutral American he now wears, it still manages to draw all attention to him when he speaks. She knew the question was coming, but it hits her with a gut punch anyway. “Oh, um-” she hesitates, avoiding his eyes, “you know, it’s late, so I was going to call it a ni-”

A chorus of _“Booooo!”_ from the others interrupts her before she can finish her excuse. It even seems to come from the person whose side she’s using as a body pillow. She cranes her neck so Saul can get an eyeful of her raised eyebrows and expression of disapproval. 

“Don't look at me,” he says, not intimidated in the least, “when it was my turn you made me eat a Pre-Freeze Fruit Roll Up. You did that to _me_ , and we’re married.”

She sits up, pulling away from him, although her head spins as she does. “‘Made’ is a strong word,” she grumbles, unable to help feeling just a little betrayed by Saul’s lack of support. She can hear his light tutting at the loss of her body heat, but she won’t let him see she regrets the move. Ami is rarely stubborn, but she does have some pride. 

Admittedly, though, he isn’t wrong. On the occasions she’d been the one to dish out the truths and dares she’d gotten carried away with herself, enjoying her revel in the world of the great taboo a little too much, and now, judging by the twist of the Jadeite’s smug lips, the time to pay the piper is nigh. 

Saul exacerbates it all by stabbing the knife of treachery deeper into her heart. “Whatever you call it, I ate one-thousand-year-old rainbow sugar-plastic entirely for your entertainment.”

“You said it aged like a fine wine.”

“I was being sarcastic and now it’s your turn to suffer. You’re not getting out of it with some measly excuse about being tired.”

“I saved the world the other day,” she says, hoping that’ll somehow rescue her. 

“I cleaned it up the day after,” he counters. 

_Well,_ she thinks, _I can’t argue with that._ To her credit she tries hard not to seem as if she’s already forgiven him, as if that smile of his hadn’t won her back the moment it appeared. She wants to kiss him suddenly, and she thinks, from the way he’s looking at her, he’ll want to reciprocate with fervour. 

“Don’t start the fire if you can’t stand the kitchen.” Both of them turn to Minako as she singsongs her latest butchery of an idiom, the look in her eyes telling Ami she knows exactly what kind of moment she’s interrupting. She’s draped over Cairo, who for once doesn’t have a steel rod for a spine, his shirt unbuttoned by at least two, and his shoulder-length, beautiful white hair tossed haphazardly on one side, revealing a single Kunzite dangling from his ear. He’s as loose and sultry as Minako, her own blonde locks tumbling over the couch’s arm, tickling the floor. Together with Makoto, wrapped in a pastel, stylised kimono, leaning on the other armrest with her brown curls unbound and her hand lying gently on Minako’s feet, they could be a scene plucked out of a rococo painting. 

But the image is no longer as romantic as Ami first felt it was, especially when they’re all responsible for cornering her. “Fine,” she huffs, grabbing her glass from the coffee table and draining the last of its dark, sweet booze. “Truth.”

Jasha wastes no time, angelic face morphing as he grins, shark-mouthed, and announces her challenge. “Tell us something that you did in college, something out of character that no one here knows about.” 

Minako gasps in overly dramatic fashion. “You perv,” she says, feigning scandalisation. 

“You’re the one whose mind went straight there.” Rei is quick to defend her would-be lover’s intentions. 

Out of all of them she remains the most upkept. Ami does not want to think about how her shaggy bob is now more ‘bed-head’ and less ‘artfully styled’, she doesn’t remember where she left her lace bolero and she’s too drunk at this point to care about the fact that her sweetheart neckline has sunk far lower than she deems proper, or that she’s ruining the tulle under her skirt. Rei’s hair and clothing, on the other hand, are still pristine, although the former was already down when she arrived at dinner - smoothly polished and arrow straight - and her dress (Ami guesses mulberry or plum) is a pleated, a-line maxi with a plunge neck, which is not exactly uncomfortable to wear. The most she’s undone of herself is having kicked off her stilettos when she’d crossed her legs, revealing perfectly polished toes. She sits on her high-backed chair like a queen on a throne. 

Ami’s not fooled by any of it, and she doubts anyone else is, either. Rei’s a mess inside, moodier, less tolerant than she used to be, preferring to withdraw than to engage, unless it’s to be aggressive. She’s more like she was when Ami first knew her and it’s got everything to do with the man she’s trying to pretend she doesn’t love. 

If Rei’s motives are ever questioned she’ll claim her comment was to keep Minako in check, but everyone knows she’s fiercely possessive over Jasha’s desire. She has no right to be, considering how adamantly she refuses him, though Ami will be the first to point out that Jasha’s not entirely innocent. He regularly exploits Rei’s weaknesses, for fun or out of bitterness, or perhaps even desperation, Ami’s not sure, but what she is certain of is the fact that she does not appreciate being used. It’s bad enough she’s being forced into playing one game, she does not wish to be a pawn in a second. 

“I’m not a pervert, I’m a lady,” Minako announces.

“That last part’s debatable, too.” Fernando’s comment is said low, into his whisky, though it’s deliberately loud enough to be heard by all. He’s sitting on an ornate chair he’d dragged close to the three-person couch when they’d first settled in the room, allowing him to share its armrest with Makoto. She nudges him out of duty for her friend, but they’re both smiling and she leans in to whisper in his ear, tugging playfully at his loosened bowtie. 

“Excuse me,” Minako says, flitting her signature red ribbon in her hand at the two conspirators and then slides the heel of her foot along the painted silk on Makoto’s thigh to gain her attention, “what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a beast when you’re angry,” Fernando says, lifting his head away from Makoto to make his point known, “and you swear like a sailor.”

“ _Fffff_...” she deliberately elongates the sound, playing into the joke, “-air enough,” she says, “but Ami still hasn’t answered and we’re not changing the subject until she does.”

Ami pinches her mouth while Minako blows her a kiss from her pretty lips. “Don’t be mad. I wasn’t when you made me admit that I was the one who broke the vase in the main state room.”

“That’s because you got away with it,” Makoto says, “I’ve spent months resenting Artemis for never admitting what he did or apologising for it, and now I find out it’s because he didn’t even do anything wrong.” 

“I never _said_ it was Artemis’ fault.”

Makoto grabs her friend’s ankle and starts tickling her foot in revenge. “You totally implied it was.”

Minako tries to kick her away amid intermittent screeching, laughter and arm flapping, but the grip on her is too firm. “Okay, okay! I yield, I’ll get you a new one.”

“Actually, you owe me an _old_ vase.”

“Whatever.”

“It means it’s going to be more expensive.”

“I know what an antique is.”

“I want something with horses on it, from the Art Nouveau period - as close to the one you broke as you can get. I liked the colours.”

“But rare-item shopping is really hard. How about I just give you the cash instead?”

Makoto starts tickling her foot again.

“ _Gyah_! Alright, I’ll get you your stupid horse vase!”

“Excellent,” she grins, letting Minako go and then turns with the same determined look to Ami. “It’s still your turn, isn’t it? You’ve been extracting secrets from us all night, it’s only fair you give us something good, too.”

“Yes,” Usagi says, “you were away from us for so long in university, tell us a little about your time in England.” 

The final nail in the coffin. Traitors, all. 

Now under pressure from her beloved queen, Ami rushes to think of something innocuous. Unfortunately, her university days were a very long time ago, she’s not at her sharpest and Oxford was not exactly memorable because she was studying _medicine_. Things - unexpected, wonderful, terrible, messy things - happened. Saul’s presence, his natural warmth, suddenly becomes incredibly distracting. 

With all eyes on her she uses the first suitable memory that pops into her head. “The only time I ever missed a swim meet was when I claimed I had a cold. I was-” she hesitates, the full memory having now caught up with her. She tries to dampen down her rising blush as she quickly restructures her sentence, “In fact, I- I was just being lazy.”

They all sit in silence, as if waiting for something more from the story. When the penny drops that that’s all they’re getting, Usagi’s face scrunches into mild disappointment. “I suppose that _is_ out of character,” she tries. 

“Shocking,” Fernando says. “You absolute disgrace. I don’t know if we can even still be friends after this.” 

“She’s also lying.”

Ami cuts her eyes at Jasha, half annoyed, half wary at the accusation. She flits her gaze quickly to Saul, to see if he’s given anything away, but his face is impassive, his hand loosely resting on her lower back. “You can’t know that for certain,” she says, calling Jasha out.

“Can’t I?”

“You’re an empath, not a polygraph machine.” As it comes out of her mouth she hears the desperation. She knows better, knows how well he wields his gift, how easy it is for him to deduce a lie by omission. 

Yet he is not the one to deliver the killing blow. Having been watching the exchange the entire time, Minako’s kohl-laced eyes widen with realisation. 

_Oh dear…_ she really should have taken more time to think before blurting out her first solid memory. 

Minako lifts herself onto her elbows. “You weren’t being lazy,” she says knowingly and looking at Saul. 

_Oh no._

“You were being se-”

“Alright fine, yes!” Ami yells before the blonde can finish that sentence. “Saul and I had only just started-” she stops, her face hot at the memory, “um.”

“Dating,” the Zoisite finishes, helping her out. 

“Yes! Dating!” Ami repeats. “We’d only just started _dating_ and I blew off a swim meet to- to be on a date. With Saul.” 

Usagi bursts into a fit of giggles. 

“It’s Cairo’s turn,” she says before anyone has a chance to protest. “Truth or dare?” Relieved that it’s over, she slumps and nestles back into the crook of Saul’s arm like it’s a blessed portal to a black hole. 

“Neither.” Cairo lifts the hand holding his whisky glass and runs the back of his finger along the emerging white bristles of his jaw. “You didn’t satisfy the challenge,” he says before taking a sip.

She sits back up, defensive. “How so?” 

“Technically Saul was the other member of your date, and Jasha wanted you to tell us something that no one knew about.”

She hadn’t thought of that. “That’s such a small technicality.”

“You’ll forgive me for delaying my turn as long as possible.” His mouth isn’t smiling, but his grey eyes are. Cairo’s teasing her. “It’s still you,” he says, loving it. 

At a loss she looks to Saul. 

“He’s got you there, love.” 

She huffs. “Just who’s side are you on tonight?” she demands, and then turns to the game’s pseudo-referee. “Mamoru, it’s your call.”

Put on the spot, the king gives a slightly awkward grimace. “Oh, uh, well...” he stalls while he takes a quick glance around to read the room. “Mercy might be in order?” he suggests, looking at Cairo. 

Fernando, however, is not having it. “Did she have mercy on me when she made me reveal that I once _shat my pants_?” 

Usagi’s immediate spit-take spray paints every single conceivable surface within her vicinity (which happens to be mostly Rei and Mamoru). “You _WHAT?”_

The room, with the exception of Usagi’s victims, erupts into hysterics. Even Cairo does, and Ami notices that Minako turns away from the queen to catch sight of her lover’s rare bout of laughter. It prompts her to do the same. She waits until Saul feels her gaze on him and then, only when he looks at her, glorious and happy, does she drop her eyes. She feels the whisper of a kiss at the top of her head and it makes her as warm as any deep embrace.

“That went in my mouth,” Rei complains as she tries vainly to wipe the maroon droplets from her face and arms with her equally wet hands. 

“Sorry,” Usagi apologises, “at least your dress is ok?” 

“Here,” Mamoru offers, unbuttoning his stained white dress shirt, wiping his own face with it and then tossing it to Rei with a grin, “it’s ruined anyway, use it to towel off.”

“Hey!” 

“Calm down,” Rei says, rolling her eyes as she stands. “I’m just wiping off your spit with it.”

“Yeah, but,” Usagi pouts, “then you’ll smell like Mamo-chan’s cologne, and- and, _urgh,_ ” she says embarrassed at her own jealousy, “never mind.”

“Do you want me to use your outfit, then?” 

“Ack, no!” Usagi screams, jumping off the couch as Rei approaches her, laughing.

“Well, are you at least going to get me a towel?” Her arms are akimbo, Mamoru’s shirt rumpled in one hand. 

The idea of going as far as the nearest bathroom clearly does not appeal to the queen. “Fine, use it, but- but don’t enjoy it or anything,” she says, and then glares (i.e. ogles) her husband’s very bare and very muscular torso. “And you, cover your boobs,” she grouches, “there are too many lusty people in this room tonight.”

“Each of us is born with a box of matches inside us but we can't strike them all by ourselves,” Minako says. 

Rei snorts, though it sounds more genuine than derisive. “I lend you one of my books of quotations and _that’s_ the one you remember correctly? I’m pretty sure you’re twisting its meaning, too.”

“There’s nothing wrong with putting my own spin on a saying,” Minako says, unfazed by the criticism. “Death of the author, babe, and I’m the goddess of love.”

Mamoru, meanwhile, has done as his wife commanded by putting on his tuxedo jacket. “Better?” he asks, leaving it unbuttoned. 

If Usagi’s slack jaw, sharp intake of breath and wide, rounded eyes are any indication, Ami’s almost certain that it is, indeed, better. “Y-yes,” she belatedly squeaks, her ears going as pink as her frilled jumpsuit. 

“You’ve got him looking like a stripper,” Saul says, grinning ear to ear. 

“Like a _what?_ ” Mamoru whips out a folded metal comb from his jacket pocket and hurls it with lightning precision. Before Ami even realises what she’s done she finds her arm outstretched protectively in front of Saul’s face, the comb gripped tight in her closed fist. 

“Oh,” she says, surprised at herself. “I caught it.”

“More drinks!” Minako scrambles off of Cairo’s lap and makes her way to the side table where they’ve stored all the booze. “If your reflexes are still that fast, there’s not enough alcohol in your system. Help me, Usa-chan, you’re better at this than I am.”

“Ooh! Yes!” Usagi practically leaps off her seat, “Drinky drinks! I’m coming!”

Saul lowers Ami’s fist to his lips and kisses the back of her hand. “Thank you,” he says, taking the comb from her and tossing it to Mamou. “I thought we’re the ones who’re supposed to be throwing things at you.”

“Yes, yes, because I look like a stripper. You’re just envious because I pull off this look better than you ever could.” 

If Ami wasn’t sure before, she is now. Mamoru’s never this cocky unless he’s wasted. She also knows exactly what’s going to happen next. 

“You?” Saul says, incredulous. “You think you have better abs than me?” He sits up, ready to rip his own top off.

“Yes, unequivocally,” Mamoru fires back, “that’s why I said it.”

“I don’t know why you guys are fighting,” Fernando says, “I’d kick all your skinny dolphin bodies to the curb.”

Cairo tilts his head to look at their accuser. “I hope you’re not referring to me.”

 _Ah_ , Ami thinks, _the classic machismo banter has begun._

Of course Jasha has to throw in his two cents. “If I recall, I took you all on last time we trained, and I won, so...”

Saul scoffs. “It was a draw, at best.”

“Plus you cheated,” Fernando claims. 

Jasha doesn’t deny it. “I used the advantage I had, it’s not my fault you can’t control a single feeling running through you.”

“I like that about him,” Makoto cuts in and, to emphasise her point, she laces her fingers with Fernando’s, “it’s honest.”

“My arm was still healing from breaks in two places, from saving your ass the week before, if I remember correctly.”

Jasha grins at Cairo. “Excuses,” he says, and then, “Thanks,” as Usagi approaches him and offers to top up his whisky. “You’re an angel. Mamoru doesn’t deserve you.” An instant later the folded comb collides with his forehead, landing with a _clink_ and a _plop_ into his glass. 

Jasha looks at Mamoru with no small amount of vexation. “Ow.”

“Stop telling my wife I’m not good enough for her and I’ll stop throwing combs at you.”

“I have it now,” Jasha says as he fishes it out of his drink, “how many more combs do y- _Ow!”_ he yells, more surprised than in pain. “Why do you have _two_ combs on your person?”

Mamoru chucks a third. Jasha catches it, sloshing whisky down his front as he moves. “ _What the shit?_ What weirdo carries three combs around with them?”

“Oh, I know, uh, hairdressers!” Minako says, clutching more drinks than she should be reasonably carrying as she makes her way back to where they’re sitting. 

“What about, um, comb salesmen?” Makoto tries. “Or someone who’s just been to a beauty supply shop? Make up artists? Barbers?”

“The question was supposed to be rhetorical,” Jasha says, “but even so, none of those are Mamoru.”

“Isn’t one of those Usagi’s?” Ami asks, referring to the purple fold-up mini-brush with pink unicorns currently being held aloft by Jasha. 

“Yes,” Mamoru confirms. “She asked me to carry it for her, and I brought one myself. The other one was in my pocket from the last dinner.” 

Ami thinks that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why he’s carrying exactly three combs, but before she can say so she’s blinded by a flash of bright light, finding Tuxedo Kamen in full regalia once her eyesight recovers. 

Within a split second of transforming, Mamoru reaches into his subspace pocket, pulls out a shiny, black comb and throws it at Jasha. 

“What is _wrong_ with you?”

Mamoru de-transforms before answering. “Take it back!”

“No!” Jasha yells, equally stubborn, and hurls the new black one back at the king. 

Mamoru dodges it, “Yes!” he yells as he transforms again and throws a fifth one. “I can do this all night! The uniform _comes_ with a comb, I have an unlimited supply!”

At that Minako and Makoto burst out laughing, the former struggling not to spill anything as she does (and failing miserably). Beside her Saul’s clutching his sides and rolling in his seat. 

“Fine,” Jasha says, laughing too, “ _fine!_ Usagi deserves your weird comb-hoarding ass.”

Minako eventually manages to hand both Ami and Saul a cocktail each, though the glasses are only half full.

“Thank you. What’s in this?” Ami asks. 

“No idea, Usagi made it.”

She takes an experimental sip and then immediately reels back at its sheer power. “That’s… strong,” she says, but Minako’s already heading back to the drinks table to fetch the rest. 

“So what is this about Nando and pants?” Usagi asks as she refills Cairo’s whisky glass and then settles herself back down in the two-seater with a de-transformed Mamoru. “How did I miss that?”

“I was five,” Fernando gripes. “And I don’t want to talk about it again.”

Makoto elaborates for him. “When you went to get the cherry liqueur from the storeroom he chose ‘truth’ and Ami asked him a question.”

“You didn’t have to be quite so open about it,” Ami says, feeling the need to explain herself. “I was expecting something like the time you burnt pasta and broke the stove.”

“You asked for my most embarrassing story. That’s the one that still haunts me to this day.”

“Out of all the things,” Cairo says, “all the lifetimes.”

“She said ‘embarrassing’.”

“What about the time you set your hair on fire?” Sauls asks. 

Fernando pulls out an ice cube from his glass and tosses it at him. “That was you, dipshit.”

The ice hits his cheek and slips off his face. “Mature.”

Fernando grins. “Mamoru started it.”

Ami can see the night’s a hair’s breadth away from devolving into a childish brawl. 

“I’m married to the queen,” Mamoru says, defending his actions, “she lets me do what I want.”

“Does she now?” Cairo asks. 

“It’s true, he’s very charming, it’s difficult to resist,” Usagi says, reaching over to Jasha and plucking her mini-hair brush from his hand. “What’s this now about a hair fire?” she asks as she begins flipping it open and closed like a switchblade. “And what does that have to do with Nando’s pant pooping story?”

“The hair fire was back in the Silver Millennium,” Cairo explains. “The Zoisite was just learning to activate his element and the Nephrite… got in the way.”

“The other story was a traumatic experience that I have yet to recover from.”

“Nando,” Makoto runs her hand soothingly along his arm, “you were a little kid.”

“Most five year olds know better than to drink puddle water,” Rei says as she reaches over to Usagi and gestures for her to pass her the whisky bottle she’s still holding. “Thank you.”

“That’s rich coming from someone covered in spit and Cherry Smash.”

She glares at him, mid-pour. “You know what, Nando?”

Mamoru metaphorically steps in before they get mean. “Perhaps we can refocus on Ami? Since it’s still her turn.”

Ami thinks that’s a terrible suggestion. “Must we?”

At the look Mamoru gives her she caves. “Alright,” she says and, to build her courage, she takes another sip of the sweet paint thinner in her glass. “You might have been under the impression that my medical degree was funded entirely via my scholarship, topped up by my mother’s private funds-” 

“I’m going to be honest, Ami-chan, I don’t remember things _that_ specific about our lives, especially the early on, Pre-Freeze,” Minako admits, “so I’m going to have to trust you on that.”

“Yes you do,” Jasha cuts in, correcting her, “you always remember everything, like him,” he points to Cairo. 

“You’re making it seem like I have an eidetic memory,” she says, “and _yes,_ I know the proper word for it, before anyone says anything. Also, I have the complete opposite of that.”

 _Minako must be quite drunk,_ Ami thinks, because she’s usually far less obvious than she’s currently being. 

“I’m making it seem like you play up the fact that you’re more ignorant than you really are.”

“Relax,” Saul adds, backing Jasha up, “you’re among friends and none of us are working tonight.”

Minako looks at him, her gaze not unfriendly but unflinchingly steady, an assessment, before the hardness suddenly cracks into a cute scrunching of her nose and light raspberry. 

Ami knows she was not meant to see it, but she caught the slight shift in Cairo’s arm, noticing how it coincided with Minako’s change. _What a perfect pair of worker bees, so totally in sync with each other_ , she thinks _,_ and then decides that it must be exhausting, to always need to look for the upper hand, even amongst the people considered as family. Ami is suddenly very glad destiny never called her up to play leader.

“I interrupted,” Minako apologises, “you were saying. We thought your time at university was funded by your scholarship and your mother.”

“Oh,” Ami says, having admittedly forgotten about the damnable challenge, “yes. I might have encouraged that impression, even though it was, in fact-” she hesitates. 

“...in fact?” Makoto prompts. 

“-not entirely accurate.”

“Please don’t tell us you were an escort,” Fernando jokes. 

Usagi doesn’t catch on and gasps. “Ami-chan,” she says in disbelief, “you were an _escort_?”

Jasha shakes her head. “How is she actually queen of the world?”

Taking the idea from Fernando, Usagi pulls out an ice cube from her drink and tosses it at Jasha. 

It bounces off Rei’s exposed inner side-boob and drops to her lap instead. 

She sniggers in an attempt to hold back a full laugh. “I meant to hit your non-boyfriend,” she says in response to Rei’s glare of outrage. “I’m very drunk.” 

Rei picks it up and throws it back. She hits Mamoru in the eye. _“Argh!”_

It sends Usagi into a fit. “You might be, too,” she says amidst her rabid giggling. 

“Sorry,” Rei says, ignoring her to check on Mamoru, “are you alright?” 

“Yes, it was mostly closed.” He blinks to alleviate the pain. In doing so, Ami realises that he misses Rei flitting a glance at Jasha and tucking away a smile, but she isn’t sure she sees it herself until Jasha looks back at Rei, frowning and curious. 

“Don’t worry,” Usagi slides a hand along his upper arm once she’s calmed down, “it’d take more than that to hurt my Mamo-chan, right hun?” She plants a kiss on his cheek for good measure. 

“No one throws anything else, got it?” Mamoru announces as he rubs the affected area with the palm of his hand, “I’m making it a decree. That means it’s law now. I see anything in the air that’s not supposed to be there, you go immediately to bed-”

Ami rushes to take off her shoe.

“ _-except_ for anyone named Ami,” he finishes quickly, “if an Ami throws anything they do a second challenge.”

She flops back into the chair. “That sounds discriminatory.”

“I’d have more sympathy,” he says, “if you didn’t make me text every single contact on my personal phone that I had a dream they wrote me a love song.”

“I let you text them again to say you sent the message to the wrong number,” she tries. 

“The _prime minister of New Zealand_ is on there and you’re not getting out of this. How _did_ you pay for your degree?” 

Ami sighs and wonders what she did in her previous life to fall in with such terrible people. “Well, the scholarship covered my fees and my mother did help me with flights to and from home on the holidays, but I paid for all my accommodation by,” she bites her lip, “writing.”

Usagi blinks, and Ami does her best not to jump over the couch and hide. “Writing?” the queen asks. 

“Yes.” Unable to run away, Ami ducks behind her hands instead. It’s a very poor substitute. 

“What kind of writing?” The question comes from Saul, which has her peeking through her fingers to see him clearly puzzled at his not having known about this before. 

“Um,” she can’t bring herself to reveal her face so she continues to communicate from behind her hands, “novels,” she says, “mostly.”

“Novels?” Minako asks, suddenly very genuinely intrigued. “What kind of novels?” The glass she’s holding is nearly empty.

“R-romantic ones,” Ami’s face now feels so hot she thinks her cheeks are going to burst, “that were… interactive.”

“You wrote _interactive romance novels_?” Usagi’s practically screaming. “Did they have stats and stuff?”

Ami’s still hiding behind her fingers, only now she’s shaking her head in disbelief that she’s actually admitting this. “Yes.”

“Any we might have read?” Makoto asks as Saul gently pries her hands from her face and pulls her towards him instead.

“I doubt it,” she says, lying stiffly in his arms, “they were in English.” She decidedly _does not_ tell them she also translated them so her publishers could sell them in Japan, too. 

“How many?” Jasha asks. 

“About one every three months.”

“For _four years_?” Rei is utterly stunned at that, more so it seems, than even finding out Ami wrote them in the first place. 

“Yes, it was relatively easy once I understood the story format and its main components, and I was quick with them because I was already-” she freezes, stopping her mouth from running further ahead than her brain, but it’s too late, half the sentence is out and they’ll push her for the rest until she caves and reveals it all. _I should have cut myself off after the second drink, Usagi’s cocktails are lethal,_ “because I- I was already a prolific fanfiction writer by the time I went to med school.”

Makoto almost chokes on her drink. “ _What?_ ”

“Did you know about this?” Usagi looks between the other Senshi and Mamoru, stunned at the revelations. “Did any of you know about this at all?”

“News to me,” Saul says. 

Minako’s grin is so wide Ami thinks she’s going to turn into a jackal. “I’m totally guessing what you wrote was BL. Please,” she begs, “please tell me you were a fujoshi.”

Ami blushes. 

“You were? You _were_!” Minako cackles with glee. “Ami that’s amazing! What an awesome secret skill to have!”

Rei rolls her eyes. “You’re going to ask her to write us something, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course I am. The next round that Ami chooses a dare, someone has to ask her to write us something about-” Minako takes a second to think, and then gets excited again, “Oh, _oh_! Write something about the Shitennou!”

It’s at this point that Ami wonders what she can bribe Setsuna with to let her travel back in time and prevent herself from being born, thus avoiding having to sit through this particularly excruciating moment. 

“Uh, that’s a hard no,” Fernando says. “The last thing I’ll ever want is to imagine myself topping… one of them.” He literally shudders at the idea. 

Cairo doesn’t even deign to respond while Saul seems intrigued. “You _wish_ you could tap this,” he says, “and you’d bottom for me, baby.”

“Please don’t write fanfiction about us,” Mamoru says, looking at Ami with his cheeks and neck flushed so deeply they probably rival her own. 

She changes her mind. She wants to go back in time to prevent her birth so that she can avoid _this_ particular moment. “I’m-” she tries but can’t seem to get her mouth to say anything further.

“Who says you’d even _be_ in the fic?” Minako asks. 

“Hey!” Usagi’s glaring (or as close as it’s possible for her to do so). “He’d be great in Ami’s sexy story.”

“Who’s the perv now?” Jasha notes, looking pointedly at the Senshi of Venus. 

“I hate to burst your bubble,” Makoto says, “but I don’t think your plan would actually work.”

Minako frowns, her eyes coated with a much thicker glaze than Ami thinks they were just a few minutes ago. “Why not?”

Makoto looks over to Cairo. “You want to tell her?”

“Ami knows about it now,” he explains, “she’s not going to choose a dare next time.”

“Oh, good point.” Minako frowns and then looks down into the remains of her drink. “What was even _in_ this?”

“Absinthe,” Usagi says, like it should have been obvious. 

_“What?”_

“What?” Usagi frowns, put out at Minako’s apparent outrage, “It’s only a dash, and I did ask what you wanted, and you said ‘surprise me,’ and then I asked you how strong you wanted it, and you answered, ‘as strong as you can make it,’ to which I replied, ‘I can make it pretty darn strong, I’m gonna put a teensy bit of absinthe in there,’ and then you went, ‘okay’.” 

Having the conversation paraphrased back to her, there’s a spark of recognition. “That might have actually happened.”

“I know it did! My amazing drinks are not the thing that deserves criticism here. Your decision not to include my Mamo-chan in Ami’s sex fic is!”

“Nobody is writing fanfiction about us,” Cairo says, looking hard at the two blonde women, “I feel that it’s important both of you know this.”

“Too late,” Saul says.

For a second, Cairo stares at him, pupils fixed, face unmoving. “What?”

“You know how many sites are already out there with stories about us doing the nasty? If anything, Ami’s late to the game.”

“I’m really not writing-”

“How many?” Jasha asks. “Who has the most?”

None of the Shitennou move as a war battles within themselves, each needing to know who’s the most popular while also wishing to remaining in blissful ignorance as to what terrifying, erotic situations the general public have put them in. Ami easily predicts which one will win. A second later four phones are whipped out at as they begin frantically scouring the internet. 

“‘ _Shitennou’s Love Triumphant’_ seems to be the main site for this... stuff,” Fernando notices. 

“Yes,” Cairo says, literally looking at his phone with one eye closed, as if only peeking at it will somehow make everything less agonising. 

“Aw,” Saul says, sounding genuinely disappointed, “out of all them ‘Kendy’ is the character who features the most.”

“Oh God,” Mamoru pulls a scatter cushion from behind him and buries his face into it. 

“Kendy?” Usagi repeats, confused. 

“Wait for it,” Rei says, watching the wheels turning in her queen’s alcohol-fogged brain.

“Kendy? Who’s K- K….ing! Oh! King Endymion! Oh! Oh! Oh, Mamo-chan! Mamo-chan, that’s you!” She’s shaking his arm so violently he’s jolting about like a rag doll, only managing to remain in character as an ostrich with its head buried through his desperation to avoid looking anyone in the eye. Usagi doesn’t notice, too wrapped up in her own sense of pride. “Take that, Mina-chan! My Mamoru totally deserves to be in Ami’s fanfic!”

“I’m _not_ -”

“I take it back,” Minako interrupts, seemingly not having heard Ami’s attempt to protest, “when you’re right you’re right. Mamoru, please accept my apology.”

He lifts his head at that, taking in a deep breath, and then flips his middle finger at her. She beams. “Jasha definitely deserves credit for his excellent question,” she says, “it’s been a gold mine.” 

The Jadeite raises his glass in acknowledgment of the compliment. “I aim to please.”

“So does Mamoru, apparently, if you’ve ever read anything on _‘Shitennou’s Love Tri_ -” Makoto’s cut off with a scatter cushion to the face, causing her to drop her phone mid-scroll through the site. 

Fernando’s too busy howling and falling off his chair to pick it up for her. “You’re dead,” he says, barely able to breathe, “oh shit, she’s going to murder you.”

“It’s _on_ , bud,” Makoto says once she recovers, the air practically crackling around her as she draws back her arm, pillow in hand. 

“The decree!” Mamoru yells, having instantly regretted his decision. “I made a decree! You’re being illegal!”

“You threw it first!” she says and then hurls it without mercy. It flies through the air, faster than any scatter cushion should be able to, practically defying the laws of physics, until it collides with a loud ‘ _ZAP!’._

Usagi screams and then bursts into laughter when the pillow drops from his face. Every single hair on Mamoru’s head is standing on end, faintly cackling with static electricity. 

“You deserved that,” Makoto says, picking up her phone. Fernando lifts his hand up to accept a high five and she happily obliges.

“Um,” he says, trying to sound like he hasn’t just been on the receiving end of a very watered-down Jupiter Thunder Punch, “who’s turn is it?” 

“Truth or dare, Cairo,” Ami asks in an attempt to help him out, although she’s not as successful as she’d like to be at hiding her grin. Minako’s already taken about a million photos. She’ll ask her for one later. 

“Dare,” the Kunzite says, “since they seem to be far less devastating than the truths.”

 _Damn_ , she thinks, polishing off her drink. She hadn’t expected that from Cairo. She had a good question lined up for him, but now she has to think on her feet. She needs to find something _good,_ and if she’s reading the room right this will likely be one of the last rounds so she can go big and not fear direct repercussions... Something… something that’ll test his mettle, something that might offer her a little revenge for his stunt earlier, something- _she’s got it._ “Get a buzz cut!”

“Holy shit,” Fernando whispers in (horrified) disbelief, “she didn’t.” 

“She _did_ ,” Rei says. “I heard it, too.” 

Cairo hasn’t moved an inch. Ami doesn’t even think he’s breathing. She briefly debates if she’s gone too far this time, but it’s a moot point, really, since there’s nothing to be done about it now _._

Mina lifts her fingers and begins to tease his hair. “I’ve always wondered what it would look like,” she says, head tilting and squinting to better imagine it. 

“Ami,” Usagi says, breathless, “you’re scary on absinthe. Next time you’re sticking to wine or sake.”

She drops her eyes down to peer into her glass. “On _what?”_

Usagi huffs and throws her hands into the air. “What? It’s the same cocktail as Minako's! What did you _think_ would be in there? It’s not like I’m forcing anyone to drink them!”

“I believe,” Cairo says, stopping all conversation, “I-” he clears his throat, “I still have yet to use my one ‘Select an Alternative’.”

“Yes, you’re correct,” Mamoru says. Rei, ever the cautious one, had suggested at the beginning of the game that everyone was entitled to one opportunity of choosing an alternative if they didn’t want to meet the challenge given to them. To make things more interesting, however, the alternative was to be chosen from a pile of cards placed in a bowl in the middle of the table. “Are you sure you’d like to use it?”

Cairo picks a card from the bowl without hesitation. 

“What does it say?” Usagi asks. 

“Streak-” he stops and looks at Minako for confirmation, “does that imply nudity?” he asks in the vain hope the word’s somehow changed its meaning since the last time he heard it.

When eyes soften in pity he goes back to reading the card. “Streak through the third floor of Crystal Palace.”

“Oh!” Makoto claps, suddenly excited with recognition, “Oh, that’s my one! I wrote that!”

Minako sighs and tucks his hair behind his ear in case it’s the last time she can do so for a while. “Vanity or dignity, my love, which is it going be?”

He places the card carefully and deliberately back into the bowl. “Does anyone have a rotary hair clipper?” he asks, exposing the flaw in Ami’s challenge. 

Fernando chews loudly on an ice cube, which Ami thinks is terrible for his teeth. “Like people regularly carry those around with them.”

“I have a sword,” Minako volunteers, and then, because of the looks she gets, “I’m very skilled with it.”

Cairo sighs. “No one better be filming this,” he says as he extricates himself from the couch and starts stripping. 

Ami’s eyes bulge out of their sockets. 

“No,” Mamoru says suddenly. “No, this isn’t right!” 

At first Ami thinks he’s going to stop Cairo. She’s both relieved that it’s not going to happen and panicked at the idea of having really upset Mamoru, but then, for some unfathomable reason, he throws off his tuxedo jacket. “I can’t leave my man stranded like this,” he declares, unbuttoning his trousers. “Who’s with us?”

“Eh?” Usagi’s practically ready to throw down at the idea that he’s exposing his beautiful body so publicly. Makoto screams and covers her eyes while Rei sits paralysed.

“Well if our king needs us…” Jasha gets up too and begins to take off his clothes. He’s followed immediately by Fernando (who downs his drink first and then tosses his undone bow tie to the floor) and Saul, who somehow gets naked faster than any of them. 

Minako’s grinning like a maniac. “This is even better than yaoi fanfiction!”

“Sure it is, but are you going to join us?” Jasha asks, “or just sit there like a lonely pervert?”

“I’m in!” Makoto yells, just as Minako stands up and wiggles out of the long skirt of her aqua two piece. “But as a lady I’m not taking off my underwear.”

“As a gentleman I’m saying you’re set isn’t leaving much to the imagination.”

“This is for Nando,” Makoto says, standing brazen and grinning at Jasha in her green lace-thong and matching bra, “because he’s _honest_.”

“Yeah I am.” Fernando comes up from behind her and lands a large, drunken kiss on her cheek. 

“Well, if we’re keeping our underwear on…” Usagi says, “then I’m in, too! What about you, Rei?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don’t be such a grumpy chicken.”

Rei’s looking at Jasha when she answers. “I’m not wearing a bra.”

“You have hair, don’t you?” Minako says. “Do what I’m doing.”

She sits for a few seconds longer and then, without breaking eye contact with him, she stands, divides her hair in two and rests it over her front. “Fine,” she slips off the straps from each shoulder and lets the dress drop to the floor, “I’m in. Happy?”

Jasha hasn’t stopped staring at her the entire time. 

“Yes!” Usagi says, tackling her in a bear hug, completely oblivious as to what’s going on. “I’m very happy!”

 _Good Heavens above,_ Ami thinks, horrified and unable to unglue her eyes from all the butts and frontal nudity, _what have I done?_

“Come on, love,” Saul says, reaching his hand out to pull her off the chair. “They’re waiting for you.”

She shakes her head, vehemently, and does her best not to stare at the very familiar thing dangling between his legs. “It’s fine, I can stay behind and… uh, watch?”

“You’d leave me to humiliate myself on my own?” His smile is gentle, coaxing, but it’s not nearly enough to tempt her. 

“I’m not-” she says, pulling him down so he can hear her without the others knowing what she’s saying, “I’m not wearing a bra, either, and I don’t have any of their hair.”

“Come on!” Before Ami can protest, Usagi yanks her up off the seat. “You can keep your top on and hold my hand, it’ll be like we’re going swimming.”

Having been thrown with an immediate and reasonable solution, with the two of them smiling at her, and having already been pulled off the couch, there’s not much she can do to resist. “A-alright,” she says, her face on fire. She shimmies out of her skirt and kicks it away, joining the rest of them in the wide corridor. _Concentrate on their faces, concentrate on their FACES, concentrate on their- oh_ , _that’s definitely not a face_. She screws her eyes shut and tightens her hold on both Usagi and Saul’s hands. “Please don’t let me go,” she whispers.

Usagi tugs on her fingers until she opens her eyes again. “Of course not,” she grins. 

“Never,” says Saul, and the seriousness of it has her turn to him. Having wanted to do it all night, she stands on her tiptoes and kisses him on his lips. 

“Ready?” Minako asks. 

“Set!” Mamoru answers. 

“I can’t believe I’m doing this, you’re all idiots.”

“Shut up, Rei,” Fernando says, “you’re an idiot, too.”

“Go!” Ami yells, more eager than anyone else to _get this over with_. 

They sprint together, jostling and laughing in a bizarre imitation of naked bumper cars as they race to reach the other end of the palace.

Ami and Usagi scream the entire time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh, I realise this might be terribly messy and all over the place, it's hard to combine slapstick with attempts at angst and deeper conflict but it's because I was already three quarters through it when I realised what I was actually writing... anyway, I'll fix this up one day, for now, I hope you enjoyed. THANK YOU FOR READING!


	8. Makoto, Rei, Nephrite, Jadeite, Zoisite (“How was I supposed to know the place was haunted” and “I’m way too sober for this”)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For VChanny who gave the most amazing prompt, and also writes the most awesome things (please go read them, she deserves all the kudos and comments).

It’s seven thirty in the morning but neither the Jadeite nor the Zoisite would be able to tell if the time wasn’t being displayed on every single one of their many monitors. The crystal walls of the room they’re occupying are made of black obsidian, the ceiling is frosted crystal to allow light in from above while maintaining privacy, but this particular morning they’ve even rolled over the steel roof, to keep them in the dark. 

Their only sources of light are their numerous screens, including the big one taking up the wall opposite the door - but the latter isn’t hugely helpful in illuminating their space, since it’s only displaying images from their assault team’s cameras… and they’re in an even darker location than the two Shitennou currently are.

“You need to head down another four flights-” Jasha starts, only to be interrupted by Makoto’s voice in his and Saul’s earpieces. 

_“I don’t want to.”_

He frowns, sits up and scans the smaller monitors on his left for info he might have missed. The darkness of the room helps him focus, but he’s not spotting trouble. “What’s wrong?”

 _“It’s gross and damp,”_ she says, “ _and_ _spooky.”_

He flops back into his swivel chair and only just barely resists a roll of his eyes. “Seriously?”

_“Yes.”_

_“I echo everything Makoto just said,”_ Rei announces - the second of the team’s three members. “ _Whose idea was this, again?”_

“Not mine. Take it up with Minako.”

Makoto audibly huffs. _“I still don’t see why I even needed to come. If anything I should’ve been back home in the mission control room. Jasha’s the one with the ‘feelings detector’.”_

He smiles. “I’m useless in that kind of location. Too many creatures, I wouldn’t be able to distinguish between them.” 

_“Creatures?”_ Fernando asks, seeking clarification at the implication. _“What the hell else is down here?”_

“Oh, you know, rats, insects, reptiles, other… feral, mutated animals.”

 _“Awesome,”_ Makoto says in a way that clearly means the opposite. _“This mission sucks. Do we go down this flight?”_

“Affirmative.” 

_“I’m not sure these are actually stairs. They seem more like a precarious descent into hell.”_

Saul sighs from his nest of computers on the other side of the room, but does his best to reassure her. “The drone did a full sweep before you guys even entered, they’re stable and level. Mostly. Just… watch out for grime - it’s a slip hazard.”

 _“Not to mention absolutely ruining my pumps,”_ Rei says, joining in with the griping. _“Why couldn’t we take the elevator down?”_

“You mean the one that’s a thousand years old and will likely have you plummeting to your deaths if you so much as step on it?”

 _“This whole place looks like it’s about to collapse,”_ she counters, _“the ceilings could cave in on us at any minute. At least the elevator would mean I don’t accidentally skewer a zombie-rat with my shoe.”_

“Fair point,” Saul says, “but you’re almost there now, so, deal with it.”

 _“My concern,”_ Makoto adds, _“if you weren’t already aware, isn’t actually the stairs themselves but the things lurking in this, frankly, terrifying underground fortress.”_

 _“Good thing you shoot lightning from your fingers, babe,”_ Fernando says, _“that’s why we’d rather have you than Jasha.”_

“I’m not sure if you were complimenting Makoto, or insulting me.”

_“I can do two things at once, I’m very competent that way.”_

Makoto, however, will not be pacified. _“Lightning does diddly squat if you’re fighting a ghost.”_

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Saul counters.

 _“Really?_ _Aliens, ancient civilisations, magical princesses, time travelling floating gnomes, villains created by the sun, evil military experiments and… you draw the line at ghosts?”_

“Yes.”

_“Then what were the things inhabiting those rocks by Mamoru’s bed?”_

Saul only hesitates for a millisecond. “The trapped souls of the previous generation of Shitennou.”

_“So... ghosts.”_

_“Guys,”_ Rei cuts in, “ _can we focus, please.”_

 _“Don’t tell me you’re scared,”_ Fernando says. 

_“I’m not.”_ She says it a little too emphatically to be believable.

_“Oh shit, she is. If Rei ‘I see dead people’ Hino is scared we need to get out of here. Immediately.”_

_“I don’t see dead people,”_ she says, like she’s talking to an idiot. _“You know this.”_

_“You see them in a fire and sometimes they’re not alive ergo, you do.”_

_“That’s a technicality,”_ she says, “ _also I’m not scared.”_

 _“We could always check with the non-boyfie to see if you’re lying to us,”_ Makoto says. Jasha can practically hear the grin on her face. 

_“Stop calling him that.”_

“Can’t do a reading through an earpiece,” he chips in, “sorry.”

_“Can’t I just ask you directly? You’re monitoring all our vitals.”_

“You can, doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you.”

_“Why not?”_

“Not mission critical.”

_“Sounds like you’re being overly protective to me. You guys change your status from ‘tentative friends’ to ‘dating’?”_

“I’m not answering that, either. Take a left.”

_“There’s two lefts.”_

“The first one, the one with the open blast doors.”

_“Roger that. And you’re just saying that because you don’t know your relationship status, either.”_

_“Yes he does,”_ Rei answers before he can. _“_ _He’s not my boyfriend, and there’s absolutely nothing between us.”_

 _”Hey Saul,”_ Makoto says, _“can you confirm if she’s lying? Where’s her heart rate at?”_

Saul flits his gaze over to Jasha. “No can do, Jasha’s mouthing threats at me. That info’s not, uh, mission critical.”

Jasha huffs and then flips him off.

 _”Well, if you know that means Ami knows,”_ Fernando says, _“and if she knows then Mina does, which basically means that everyone knows but us.”_

_“Minako doesn’t know anything, Ami doesn’t either and Saul has absolutely no business discussing my elevated heart rate,” Rei says, “so can we please focus on the damn mission.”_

” _So you **are** lying to us.”_

 _“No,_ _”_ she answers through a tight mouth, _“I’m just... scared.”_

_“Oh, cut the crap, you jerks!” Makoto bursts out, “We know you two have been sexing each other up since that trip to Greece three years ago.”_

Rei’s heart rate spikes to red levels on all monitors. _“I- What- I- He’s-”_ she flounders at the top of the staircase. _“We are_ **_not_ ** _dating.”_

At the sudden injection of pity being shot his way by his monitoring partner, Jasha buries his face in his hands. 

_“Sleeping together doesn’t make him her boyfriend-”_ Fernando says and then stops, as if he has to build up his courage to continue. 

Jasha lifts his head to look at the big screen. “Don’t you dare,” he hisses, knowing exactly what’s coming, but it’s the worst thing he could possibly say to stop Fernando from talking. 

_“-he’ll sleep with any Senshi who gives him a second look.”_

Considering the conversation involves Ami and the events that occurred in the initial decade after they woke from the Freeze, Saul unmutes his mic. “Not an appropriate fucking comment,” he says just as they hear a crack, followed by a thump, in their ear pieces. “Did Rei just slap Nando?” His monitors show impact in several places. 

_“Yeah,”_ Makoto says, _“but I did too, so he’s currently unable to respond directly.”_

“Thanks, I’ll subject him to a sound beating when he gets back.”

 _“You can try,”_ Fernando says in a slightly strained voice, _“I’d still kick your puny little knife-fetish ass.”_

“Save it for the undead cyborg werewolves,” Jasha says in an attempt to pretend the last few minutes didn’t just happen, “you’re getting close.”

Makoto tuts as they make relatively quick work of the stairs. _“I am way too sober for this. Are we going down the other flight, or turning right?”_

The grid map on his left monitor shows they’re at a crossroads again.“Take a wild guess.”

_“Of course. Urgh, it reeks down here. Got an ETA to the lair of literal nightmare fuel?”_

“Four minutes. You guys might want to get yourselves ready.” 

_“How many more floors left? This place is a freaking maze and I’ve lost count,”_ Fernando asks. 

“There are twelve in total, and you’ve got another one to go.”

 _“Great,”_ Rei says. _“So you’re telling us the stench is going to get worse.”_

“It can’t be worse than Cairo’s farts were when Dimi put us all on that specialist protein after we woke from the Freeze,” Saul says in an attempt to lighten their spirits. 

Makoto snorts. _“God, remember that?”_

 _“Who could forget?”_ Fernando says, _“I still maintain that was the real reason why Mina wasn’t sleeping with him.”_

_“You’re just exuding sensitivity today.”_

_“You know what, Rei-”_

They miss the rest of Fernando’s answer as reception between their communication devices temporarily glitches, but that’s a usual occurrence when Sailor Jupiter activates her powers, so neither of them are worried. On their monitors Sailor Mars’ body temperature skyrockets. “Three minutes to target location,” Saul says when the line’s clear again. “Don’t start the show until I get back.”

 _“Where are you going?”_ Makoto asks. 

“Gotta pee, and make coffee.”

Jasha pushes away from the table and swivels his chair to face Saul as he walks by. “Get me one too, please.”

 _“Won’t that be your fifth cup this morning?”_ Even though Rei asks it as a question, it’s obvious to all it’s meant to be a criticism. 

_“Keeping tabs on his caffeine intake,”_ Fernando says, _“while you run a mission in a clearly haunted, ancient military bunker tells me-”_

 _“I’d think very carefully about the next words coming out of my mouth if I were you,”_ Rei interrupts. 

For a second he says nothing, and then, _“Fine. But only because you’re literally on fire right now. We’re approaching the bottom floor. Is Saul back yet?”_

“Almost there,” he answers, standing at the counter of the room’s kitchenette. “Jash, you want milk in this?”

“In the literal millennia we’ve known each other, have I ever-”

“Alright, fine,” he says, stopping the tirade from building. “Shit, I’m sorry I asked if you might want something different for a change.”

Makoto’s too tense with anticipation to stop herself. _“It’s because he’s crabby about the fact that Rei said they’re not boyfriend and girlfriend.”_

 _“You’re all aware there are actual super-enhanced, human-eating monsters lurking around here, right?”_ Rei says, in an attempt to rise above it all. 

It doesn’t work, and Fernando has no issue calling it out. _“Classic distraction technique.”_

 _“It might be,”_ Makoto says, _“but I’m with Rei on this one. There’s literally nothing down here. Not a single scuttling bug, like they’re afraid of this place.”_

“Sounds like you’ve found the correct location, then,” Saul says, pouring out the hot, black liquid. 

_“Agreed. Would you be so kind as to speed up your coffee-making process?”_

“Can’t rush perfection.”

 _“I suggest you try,”_ Rei says.

“Ok, we’re all set.” He hands Jasha his coffee and receives a thumbs up in thanks. “You guys good to go?” he asks as he sits back down at his desk. 

_“Yes.”_

“Do you want us to use the drone to bypass the door’s security or do you guys just want to-” an almighty _BOOM_ and ensuing electrical cackling makes completing that sentence redundant. “Ok then.”

 _“Oh, shit,”_ Fernando yells and then gags, _“the_ **_smell_** _.”_

“Have fun,” he says, sipping his coffee and sitting back to watch the chaos through the infrared cameras. 


	9. Haruka, Hotaru (The Flash)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Jupiter Eternal who asked for “A younger Hotaru tries to get Haruka to dress up as the Flash” 
> 
> This was fun!!

“Papaaaaaaaaaaaaaa…”

Haruka stops talking on the phone to see the toddler stomp-running through the hall, as if the loudness of her sandaled feet against the original hardwood somehow compensates for her lack of actual speed. 

She disappears into the dining room, presumably circles the table once or twice, if the “zoom, zoom, zoom,” she’s repeating to herself is any indication, and then doubles back, to trot past her again. 

Having predicted the move, Haruka ended the call quickly and is now semi-squatting, arm extended, to catch the little girl on her way past. 

“Zoom, zoom, zoom,” Hotaru yells, her hands open and flat, violet eyes intent. She’s taking this all very seriously, which is adorable, but if she’s not careful she’s going to knock over one of the many intricately carved jack o’lanterns that Michiru has paid people extensive amounts of money for. 

“Gotcha!” Haruka lifts the girl amid a mix of giggles, whining and squirming, which somehow all happens at the same time. 

“Haruka-papa, let me goooooo!”

“Too late,” she grins and blows on her tummy. “You’re mine!”

“Noooo!” She kicks her legs out in an attempt to escape, “I’m the Flash!”

“The Flash? From that Justice League movie?”

“Yes! Zoom, zoom!”

She puts the toddler down. “Is that the Halloween costume Setsuna-mama bought you? I thought you were going to be Totoro.”

“I want to be the Flash!” She hits the ground running, chasing her invisible enemy down the corridor, only to turn back around and accidentally kick a pumpkin as she does. 

Haruka sighs internally and then outwardly frowns. “Careful, Hotaru.”

“I’m not Hortaru,” she announces, having not been intimidated in the least by the glare, “I’m the Flash!”

She catches her again and carries her sideways under her arm. “Alright then, Flash, let’s take it outside.”

Once they make it to the garden, Haruka pretends to drop her and then catches her just in time, which has the girl squealing in excitement. She repeats the game a few more times but even playtime with papa is not enough to dissuade the girl from her original plan. Using her clammy four-year old fists, she begins pushing off of Haruka’s arms until the latter gives in and lets her go.

“Yay!” she says, “I’m the Flash! Zoom, zoom, zoom!” She kicks off her sandals, despite the coolness of the sunny, autumn afternoon and begins sprinting through the grass, presumably wetting (and definitely staining) her dainty pink socks. She falls over once when she tangles herself in her own feet but it does nothing to discourage her and, in true toddler fashion, she immediately gets up and continues as if it never happened. 

With no household items at risk of damage, Haruka sits on a bench resting against the house’s outer wall. She picks up the call she dropped earlier and watches her daughter run around the yard unimpeded. As she does so, she can’t help cheating a little: she adds a helpful, careful wind behind the child to speed her up and elicit giggles of delight. 

It also tuckers her out so much that once they’re done playing, Haruka makes a mental note to do it again the next day. 

She then makes a second note to change their Halloween costumes. The sheer amount of joy Hotaru’s getting from her game makes it seem like a good idea, and Haruka’s not exactly against Michiru dressed up as Wonder Woman (or of seeing a Batman-Setsuna). It’ll definitely take a hefty amount of cajoling, flattery and convincing to get the mamas to change their carefully-laid Halloween plans, but she’ll get it done. It’s totally worth it to make little Hotaru happy.

* * *

  
It’s only after Haruka‘s put on her own Flash costume, having spent an inordinate amount of time and effort just getting into the stupid, restrictive and revoltingly pricey thing, that her darling little Hotaru, who’s standing in the doorway, also fully dressed as the Flash and ready to step outside for a night of Trick-or-Treating, officially announces that she now wants to be a damn yellow sponge.


	10. Minako, Nephrite, Makoto (Ugly Sweaters)

“ _Babe_ ,” Makoto calls out from the shower, “I think someone’s at the door.”

“It’s Mina. She texted us both a few minutes ago to say she was coming over,” Noel says as he makes his way past the bathroom. 

“Does she need a ride to Usagi’s?”

“No idea.” He opens the door. 

“Hey, hey.” Minako waltzes in, dressed in full business regalia, the heady scent of spicy, salty, oily take out accompanying her as she enters the foyer and makes a beeline for the kitchen. “I finished a work thing in the neighbourhood and thought I’d stop by. Where’s Mako-chan? I got us all dinner from Sukiya.”

“She’s, uh… in the shower.” Noel eyes her up and down. Of course she’s gorgeous, even in a quirky, houndstooth pencil-skirt suit, but she is decidedly _not_ dressed for a party. And from the way she’d unzipped and kicked off her black, heeled boots, like she has no intention of putting them back on in any hurry, she seems like she’s getting ready to settle in. 

And then there’s the matter of her having brought food. 

“Mamoru’s Christmas do?” he says.

She frowns. 

“Usagi’s thing. The costume party?”

She’s still frowning. 

He grins, having realised what the problem is. “It’s tonight.”

Her bright blue eyes bulge in panic. “MAKOOOOOO-CHAAAAAAAN!” she wails like she’s fifteen years old again and dashes to the bathroom.

* * *

“Calm down, we’ll find something.”

“It’s in less than two hours,” Minako says, but it’s drowned out at the sound of her desperately dragging hanger after hanger across the metal rod holding up the majority of Makoto’s wardrobe. “There’s no way I can get to a store, find a costume that doesn’t scream ‘slutty’ or ‘cheap’ _and_ shower _and_ put on makeup _and_ be ready in time to catch a ride with you two! Is he done yet?” She marches over to the bathroom and bangs on the door. “What takes you so long?” she demands, without waiting around for an answer. 

“I have a lot of hair!” 

“Whatever!” she yells from back in the bedroom and flops onto the bed. 

Makoto eyes her friend through her vanity mirror as she adds mascara. “What’s wrong with cheap and slutty?”

“It’s not classy. And I am.”

She snorts as she recalls their last Halloween party where Minako walked in wearing a plaid micro-skirt and a white crop top, calling it a ‘sexy take on the school uniform’. “You sure?”

“Khalid’ll be there,” she admits, and it explains everything. 

“You don’t have to impress him, you know. You’re amazing as you are.”

Minako looks back at her via the mirror and smiles. “Thanks, babe. _Urgh_ , your boobs are enviously huge, I’ll drown in everything you own,” she says, getting up to panic-flick, yet again, through the same rack. “Maybe I can put some antlers on or something?”

Having finished with her makeup, Makoto lets down her wet hair. “Do you even have a pair of antlers?”

Minako huffs. “No,” she says and gives up looking through her friend’s clothes. “I can’t believe I mixed up the dates.” She trots on the spot in a mock-fit as she laments her predicament. “The costume I ordered was _perfect_.”

“Your costume’s not here, though,” Noel says as he walks in naked but for a towel wrapped precariously around his hips. “Now get out of my room.”

“ _Fine_. But _you’d_ better not have used up all the hot water!” The bathroom door slams behind her. 

It takes him a second to realise. “It’s my house!”

* * *

By the time Minako’s out of the shower, Makoto’s nearly finished blow drying her hair and Noel’s sitting in the living room, zoning out on trash TV. 

“Why didn’t I wear something cuter than that stupid outfit to work today?” She glares at it as she hops into her underwear from underneath the towel. "The universe has conspired against me." 

“You looked great in it, you’ll be fine,” Makoto says loudly, to be heard above the noise of the dryer. "The curling wand's hot if you need it." 

“Thanks, but… can’t I share your costume?” she’s only half joking when she asks, reaching for her purse to take out her kohl pencil. 

“No!” is Noel’s emphatic answer from his place on the couch. “I’m not changing into something else.”

She stops lining her eyes. “I’m not trying to borrow _yours_ , dumbass!”

“We’re matching,” he calls out, “if she changes, I have to change. And I just put this on.”

“It’s a S _anta suit?_ It’s not like it was hard!”

“Sorry hun,” Makoto says, “my outfit’s really just a mini dress. I can give you the hat that came with it, but it’s huge.”

“No,” Minako says, dejectedly, “although at this point I’ll take anything.”

“I have that hideous Christmas sweater if you want,” Noel jokes. 

Makoto’s eyes light up. “Oh!”

“Oh?” Minako asks, hearing the hope in her friend’s voice. “Is that a good ‘oh’?”

“It depends.” She disappears into the living room and comes back quickly with a package in hand. “The initial plan was to go in matching ugly Christmas sweaters but his came in a size too big and mine didn’t come at all. I was going to return it, but maybe you can… I don’t know, morph it into a shirt dress or something?” She tosses over the bag. 

Minako pulls it out and inspects it. It’s mostly black. Black is classy, and her boots are black, too. So far so good. It’s got a round neck, which is fine. If she cuts off the cheap ribbed neckline and quickly hems any frays she can give it a sexy scoop neck, maybe even take it off the shoulder. And it’s long enough to act as a dress… (albeit a very short one, but a pair of stockings should class that right up). “This is perfect! And the penguin print is so cute!” 

Makoto wouldn't call the snaggle-toothed misprint eating a turkey leg 'cute' but to each their own. She is about to say so, but she finds herself tackled in a hug with a half-soaked blonde. “Ok! Ok! But we have just over an hour and you haven’t even done your hair!”

“You watch!” Minako says, determined, “now that I have a plan that’ll knock his stuffy socks off, I’ll be ready in no time.”

Makoto doesn’t need further details to decipher who her friend is referring to, so she simply shakes her head in affection.

“It’s still hideous!” Noel yells, having heard the whole exchange. “It’s going to make you look hideous too!”

“Shut up, doofus!” Mina answers. “I know it was your idea to wear matching Santa outfits with your girlfriend. You’re such a sap.”

“I’m not afraid to admit it.”

“He’s really not,” Makoto says and grins a mile wide.

* * *

To be fair, they were only fifteen minutes late to the party. 

The sweater-dress was indeed, very short. 

Khalid totally noticed.


	11. Rei, Usagi (Building a Fire)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by Jupiter Eternal, who asked for Serenity/Rei “Building a Fire”

“Reiiiiiiii-chan...”

The dark haired woman raises an eyebrow as she walks into the living room of their rented holiday cabin. She _knows_ that tone, and it means her adorable girlfriend wants something. “What is it?”

“Well,” Usagi says, unfazed by Rei’s gruffness, “I’m all cozy on this couch already but it’s so cold!”

Rei totally knows what Usagi’s hinting at, but she loves to tease her and it’s their holiday break after all. What’s Christmas if not the perfect time to have a little fun? “I’ll make us some hot drinks. You build the fire.”

Usagi’s eyes bulge. “The fire?” she asks, “Me? B-but-”

“Well, I can’t do both at the same time, so either you can wait in the cold while I get our drinks, or you can get the fire started.”

Usagi’s face is crestfallen. “Fine,” she sighs. It’s not like she can be selfish and demand Rei do everything. 

Rei leaves with a grin and gets to work in the kitchen. It only takes her a few minutes. She makes herself a cinnamon coffee and a hot chocolate for Usagi, topping it with a cute little marshmallow snowman she made using instructions from a video Makoto had shared with her the week before. 

When she brings both drinks into the living room, she finds Usagi bundled in a blanket, holding a box of matches with one hand and a piece of coal from the fire in the other. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice a mixture of amusement and concern. 

Usagi’s lip wobbles. “ _I don’t know!_ ”

Rei gives in and starts to laugh, placing both mugs on the table before she spills them. “There’s a remote, silly,” she tells her girlfriend, “right here, see?” She picks up the little device and presses a button.

The fire lights instantly. 

“And I didn’t even have to use my powers.”

“Oh!” Usagi giggles at her own dopiness. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Rei gives her a light kiss on her temple. “Of course I did. Do you like your drink?”

Usagi’s squeal of delight is all the answer she needs. The room may be cold, but Rei’s never felt warmer.


	12. Rei, Jadeite (Secret Gift)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VChanny prompted me with something excellent but super hard!!!! 😭 (only because the bajillion or so ideas I had were not at all suitable in any shape or form for cheerupemo, lol):  
> ”Rei/Jadeite; secrets (secret gift, secret surprise, secret admirer, idk. Do with it what you wish!)”

She does not know when exactly suspicion had turned to trust, it happened too slowly to pinpoint, over long decades of forcibly working and living together. Now they operate in open friendship, with kindness and genuine affection offered on either side - almost kindred in spirit.

The truth of it hits her suddenly as she wraps a book meant for him, fingers running along a fold of elegant green paper, she stops half way along, her breath catching in her throat. 

The queen had insisted these past few years on a quaint western tradition (when did Usagi not fall for quaint things of any kind?) of pulling a name out of the king’s retired tuxedo hat and buying that person a gift at Christmas time. 

She had drawn Jasha and hadn’t batted an eye. Immediately she knew what he would appreciate: a good Shiraz from the Barossa Valley would suit both him and the allocated budget. But she had unconsciously dismissed the easy option in favour of something more challenging - she wanted a gift that would be more permanent and memorable, and even that had not been so difficult to find. A beautiful hardback edition of a novel he’d once mentioned as his childhood favourite, a comment made in a conversation they’d had so far in the past it’ll have been forgotten about. 

How she remembers it is not surprising, Rei has always had a long memory. Why she remembers is what strikes her. 

She debates hiding the book away, it’s not too late to get him the wine. It would be a good gift, far more appropriate for Serenity’s Secret Santa: professional, a classic, with a hint of warmth for her having known which one he would enjoy. 

The novel, however, would be one of the few he would possess in physical form - his decorative aesthetic is minimal, and his constant travelling means ebooks are his preferred means to satisfy his voracious literary appetite. 

It would be glaringly obvious, making itself known to him, wherever he would decide to keep it: a bookshelf with few others to blend against, the nightstand he looked to every morning and night, the coffee table in his office, used continuously… even hidden away, a box under his bed. It would be there, a reminder in his mind, the fact that she’d wanted to make an impression. A statement, bold and certain as it would be subtle and secret. 

She hesitates a little while longer, and then, making her decision, she takes in a deep breath and goes back to folding the elegant green paper. 


	13. Rei, Jadeite (Champagne and LBD)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted by caffeineivor “Champagne and A Little Black Dress”
> 
> I went slice of life for this one, enjoy!

“What are you going to wear?” Rei enters the living room and makes her way over to the large armchair he’s currently sitting on. “I want us to at least be coordinated so we don’t look like mismatched morons.”

Jasha’s eyes flick up from the book he’s reading. “It’s black tie?”

“So?” She’s practically standing over him, imposing, intimidating,  _ sexy.  _ “Saul has never turned up to a formal event in something not completely ridiculous.”

“I’m not Saul.”

“Are you going to wear the dark blue tux?” she asks, finally revealing the real question, “because if you are I’m going to rule out the burgundy Stella McCartney.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want us to look like the stupid American flag.”

He blinks. “What about the Russian flag?”

“Also stupid.”

“Hey.”  _ Rich _ , he thinks,  _ coming from someone whose flag is a dot.  _ “Red and blue are noble colours. They’re colour wheel opposites. And my motherland is very cool.”

“It made you, didn’t it?”

He sighs. “Sometimes it really doesn’t feel like you’re my girlfriend.”

“‘Girlfriend’ is juvenile,” she claims as she begins to walk away from him. 

“What would you call yourself then?”

“Rei,” she says as she disappears around the corner. 

He rolls his eyes at the ridiculousness of the suggestion. “Hello, yes, nice to meet you, this is Rei, she’s my… Rei,” he mocks. 

She pokes her head back into the living room. “You’re hilarious.”

“I’m wearing an old school black tuxedo, happy?”

“Fine.”

He stands up and walks past her. “And I’m cracking open some champagne.”

“Why?” Her eyes follow him into the kitchen.

“You want to go to this thing sober?”

“Fair enough,” she says and heads back into the room. 

Once he pops the bottle and pours them a glass each he almost calls out her name. And then he quickly realises it’d be a futile endeavour. She’s looking for an outfit. She’ll want the champagne brought to her. “I notice there is no stringy maroon dress in this pile,” he says when he enters their bedroom. 

“That’s because I’m not going to wear it.”

“But you said-” he stops, disappointed, “nevermind.” 

“What?” she prompts. 

He sips. “You just show so much amazing boob and back in that thing. I was looking forward to seeing you in it.”

She mirrors him and drinks from her flute. “You can see me naked anytime you want,” she says and starts flicking through the messy pile of dresses on the bed with her free hand. 

“It’s not the same.”

She rolls her eyes and then huffs, clearly dissatisfied with all of her choices. She takes a slightly larger sip from her champagne this time. And then she gets an idea. “I’m going to wear this instead,” she says as she reaches into the very back of the cupboard and pulls out something hidden in a black garment bag. She hands him her glass and unzips it. 

“Oh,” he says on sight of the black, sleeveless, midi dress. “I like that one.”

“I thought you might. I haven’t worn it in years.”

“A classic. Timeless.”

“Yes,” she says, “I absolutely am. Hand me back my booze?”

“As the lady commands,” he grins, walking up to her and kissing her temple as he does. 


	14. Makoto, Usagi ("Things you said at 1am while you were drunk")

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rising Pheonix prompted me with Makoto/Usagi and "things you said at 1am while you were drunk". She's a wonderful rarepair shipper (Makoto/Usagi) so please go read her stuff! 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Rising_Phoenix/pseuds/The_Rising_Phoenix

“Ooh,” Minako shakes her shoulders while she sing-songs, “I’ve got a good one...”

Rei, who lost the last round and is now utterly intoxicated, downs her fifth penalty vodka shot of the night. “Urgh, this game is too hard.”

“You just need to give an answer. Any answer,” Makoto laughs. 

“The booze is slowing my brain! The game is rigged,” she complains, “now what’s the challenge, Minako? Hurry up and let’s get this over with.”

The blond sticks out her tongue but being excited for the question she’s drawn, she acquiesces. “Who do you secretly think is sexy, even though no one else does?” she reads before quickly placing her hand on her knee. 

All four women follow suit, copying her as fast as they can, but Rei’s not the only one completely inebriated. Ami notices too late what Minako does and belatedly slaps her hand on her thigh, missing her knee completely. The others erupt in laughter while she stares at her hand, wide-eyed, not quite comprehending how the simple act of taping one of her joints went so horribly wrong. “Oops,” she says, sparking another bout of guffawing. 

“You first, you first!” Usagi yells, clutching at her sides. “Come on Ami or you’ll lose and have to take another vodka shot!”

“Um,” Ami says, looking up, sloth-like, “what was the question?”

“Too late!” says Rei, delighted. “Drink!”

“No, wait! Um, Einstein!” she yells suddenly, in a burst of panic, and everyone stops talking. “He-” she says quietly, her cheeks burning hot enough to fry eggs on, “he has a sexy brain.”

If their laughter was loud before, it’s deafening now. 

“The American actor, Tim Hanks!” Usagi announces, since she’s sitting to Ami’s left, making it her turn. 

“It’s Tom Hanks, you ninny,” Minako corrects, “and for that you take a shot.”

“Aw!” Usagi picks up the vodka bottle and fills her shot glass. 

“Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink!” they chant as she tips the clear liquid into her mouth, coughing and grimacing after it goes down.  
  
“Urgh,” she says, “does that make it my turn to read a card?”

“Yes!” Minako hands over the pile to Usagi. “Pick one, but keep your eyes closed! No peeking!”

Usagi scrunches her entire face so tightly it looks like a pink wrinkly ball. It’s so adorable it makes Makoto want to kiss her. “I have the cutest girlfriend,” she sighs and then slaps her hand over her mouth, “Did I say that out loud?”

“You sap!” Rei says, cackling, which totally confirms that Makoto did, indeed, say it to everyone.

“Aw,” Usagi grins, “well, I have the sweetest girlfriend!” she says and blows her a kiss. 

Ami is not quite so amused, but it’s mostly because she can barely sit up straight. “Could you read the card, please? I don’t think I’m going to last much longer in this game.”

“Ok, ok! What’s the wildest thing you’ve ever heard someone say while drunk?” She then looks at her friends and decides to place her hand at the top of her head. 

This time it’s Rei who’s last to follow suit. “Not again!”

“Ooooh,” Minako says, “come on Rei, give us something or it’s the booze for youuuuuu!”

“Wildest thing…” she thinks, “wildest… wildest-”

“Ticktock,” Makoto teases, “time’s almost up.”

At the last second, Rei gets one, “Oh! Just now when Ami answered Einstein!”  
  
“Cheeky,” Minako says, “but I’ll accept it! My turn! The wildest thing I’ve ever heard is…” she hums in thought. “The wildest think I’ve ever heard a drunk person say?”

“Stop stalling,” Rei yells. 

“Fine! That time Rei asked some random dangos that had been discarded on the street if they wanted help to find their lost owners.”

Rei sits silent as the women begin laughing at the story. “I don’t recall that ever happening,” she says with a perfectly serious face. 

“That’s because you were drunk out of your mind,” Minako says, shoving her. 

“I remember that!” Makoto says, “oh, I remember that night because it was Usa-chan’s birthday!”

“Well,” she sniffs, “even if it were true, I would have only been asking them out of the kindness of my good heart.”

“They were dirty balls of glutinous rice, Rei,” Makoto counters, “you were talking to food.”

“Still,” she says, unable to argue any differently, “I’ve finally completed my turn without losing, so... over to you, Usagi.”

With the night being so joyful and her girlfriend laughing so loud with the friends they both loved so dearly (and with the warmth of booze flooding her whole body) she finds herself suddenly bold. “I want you to marry me,” she says to Makoto. 

The whole rooms stops once again. 

“That doesn’t count,” Makoto says after a long moment of quiet shock, “because it’s not wild at all. I’d like to marry you, too.”

“Oh…” Usagi gasps, eyes widening in happiness. “Oh!” she repeats, louder this time, and jumps up. Throwing herself on top of a giggling Makoto she covers her face and lips in happy kisses.


	15. Rei, Jadeite (Lazy Saturday)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> VChanny prompted me with "Lazy Saturday" and Rei x Jadeite (what an excellent prompt, from an such an excellent writer! Seriously, go read her stuff! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28991202)

She stirs as the sun rises, as always. 

He wakes with her but finds that the covers are too warm, his limbs too laden, his lids too sealed to warrant moving. “Shh,” he says, semi-conscious, and pats her clumsily on the shoulder, unable to bring himself to do more, “be lazy today, it’s your birthday after all.”

“It’s not even close to being my birthday.”

He forces a blue eye open against its will, and is rewarded with a ray of sunlight piercing through it like a needle. His eyelid wins, then, but he’s never one to give up easily, and so he tries again, only this time he uses his hand to shield himself from the cursed star that’s pulled Rei, and thus him, into conscious existence. 

The corner of his mouth tugs in good humour. “It’s mine, then.”

She sits up and looks at him, face soft, “I’m not stopping you from being lazy.” She is amused at it now, but if she begins to work and he’s still in bed, she won’t find it so funny. He knows from experience. 

“I don’t sleep well if you’re not with me,” he tries, watching her. 

She gives as much as she can: a valiant attempt at resistance. “That line isn’t going to work, it’s completely untrue,” and then, just as quickly as her refutation- because he knows she finds it too difficult to deny him when he looks at her just so, when his lips are warm and the sunlight dances in the gold of his hair- she crumbles. “Fine,” she says, mildly irritated at herself for her own weakness, “one hour.” She shuffles back under the covers and shuts her eyes, stubborn. 

He kisses the tip of her nose and draws her close.


End file.
